Category: English

When Anthony’s family lost their fortune, I swooped in. To my delight, I managed to capture his handsome heart. We were together for three years. In that time, he grew more and more distant, the look in his eyes tinged with a subtle contempt. I knew he regretted choosing me. But I’m a sucker for a pretty face, and I just couldn’t let go of his. So, for three years, I pretended not to notice. That is, until the night I went to pick him up from another drunken stupor and my eyes landed on a different face. A face so stunningly handsome it sent a jolt through my entire body. I stood there, mouth agape, forgetting to even wipe the tears from my eyes. “What’s… what’s your name?” I stammered. The boy was sweet, his voice soft. “Ethan.” It was 1:27 AM. And I knew, with absolute certainty, that my obsession with Anthony was finally over. 1 It was midnight when a junior from his graduate program brought Anthony home. Woken up yet again, I threw on a robe and leaned against the doorframe, watching the girl’s flushed face. “You should have had someone else help you. That’s a lot for you to handle on your own,” I said, moving to take Anthony from her. He flinched away from my touch. The air thickened with awkwardness. As the girl stumbled through an explanation, my gaze fell to Anthony’s hand. His long, elegant fingers—the same fingers I’d always found so beautiful—were clenched around the strap of her purse, gripping it like a lifeline. My throat felt dry. I watched her soothe him, watched her coax him into my arms. I had a pretty good idea why she was the one to bring him home. The moment I took his weight, the overpowering stench of alcohol hit me, and a wave of nausea rolled in my stomach. Wiping his face, changing his clothes, forcing down the hangover medicine… After it was all done, I sat quietly by the bed, studying Anthony’s sharp, refined features. Fine brows, long eyes, a high-bridged nose, and thin lips. The open collar of his shirt revealed the smooth, strong lines of his porcelain skin. I leaned in close, my lips near his ear. “I love you so much, Anthony,” I whispered. He turned his head away, his brow furrowed in a pained grimace as he mumbled something in his sleep. I strained to hear the name, my cheek almost brushing against his lips. “Lila…” If I remembered correctly, the girl who brought him home was named Lila. A first-year grad student. Very popular, very likable. How close did you have to be for a man as reserved as Anthony to murmur a girl’s first name in his sleep? I refused to think of Anthony as some morally bankrupt cheat. He was one of the few genuinely decent men I’d ever met; it was one of the reasons I’d pursued him so relentlessly. The main reason, of course, was that face—a face that held my entire world captive. I pushed the thought away and lay down beside him. I wanted to kiss his lips, but the smell of liquor was too strong, and I retreated with a sigh. “Good night,” I whispered. A second later, Anthony’s arm wrapped around me, pulling me into his embrace. Just like he had countless nights before, he buried his head in the crook of my neck. I’d been up with him until the early hours, and with work being so hectic lately, my sleep was fragile. The moment Anthony stirred, I was awake. He released me and sat on the edge of the bed with his back to me, silent for a long time. I had no idea what he was thinking. Just as I was about to sit up and ask, his phone rang. The balcony door was open, and I could hear his clear, smooth voice drift back into the room. “Yeah, I just woke up. You? Did you sleep well?” I couldn’t hear the reply, but I heard Anthony’s low chuckle. It had been so long since I’d heard him laugh. For some reason, their ordinary conversation felt like nails on a chalkboard, a sour, indescribable ache tightening in my chest. 2 My boyfriend was having an affair. Not the physical kind, but an emotional one. He was on his phone more often. When we talked, he was either distracted or completely silent. He no longer held me, no longer kissed me. When he looked at me, his eyes were cold. This was Anthony’s signature move. Over the past three years, whenever he felt a pang of regret about being with me, he’d try to freeze me out, to push me away with the silent treatment. But I was just too weak for that beautiful face of his. I clung to him, shamelessly, for three long years. He had been on the verge of giving in, of resigning himself to a life of settling with me. Our families had even started discussing wedding dates. But then Lila appeared. Bright, gentle, and a perfect match for Anthony’s ideal woman. They had endless things to talk about, their own inside jokes and secrets. They were a perfect match, in looks and in spirit. And me? I was shallow and tactless, a constant source of embarrassment for him. I tried to break up with him, to give him what he wanted. But every time I was about to speak, he would look at me with those narrow, almond-shaped eyes, and the words would die in my throat. All I wanted to do was kiss him. The thought of waking up and not seeing that face next to me was enough to make me want to cry. So, as long as he didn’t explicitly end it, I chose to live in this pathetic limbo. He’d pull all-nighters with Lila in the lab; I’d send worried messages that went unanswered. He’d leave early in the morning; I’d have his outfit for the day picked out and waiting. He’d go out with colleagues and friends; I’d be the designated driver, waiting to pick him up. Every time his friends would laugh and tease, “Your girlfriend is so thoughtful, man,” the ice in Anthony’s eyes would get a little thicker. He slid into the passenger seat without a word. I smiled and made small talk with his friends for a moment before waving goodbye. Of course, I noticed Lila standing in the corner, her face pale. “It’s getting colder,” I called out before leaving, my voice deliberately cheerful. “Lila, make sure you dress warm so you don’t catch a cold!” Her lips trembled as she mumbled a soft “okay,” and a moment later, she pulled off the dark blue scarf around her neck. It was the scarf I had spent three months knitting for Anthony. When I’d put it on him, he hadn’t even bothered to lower his head, just watched with detached eyes as I stood on my tiptoes, struggling to wrap it around his neck. So how, I wondered, did he wrap my scarf around another girl’s neck? Did he bend down for her? Did he smile? I didn’t dare to imagine it. I didn’t want to. On the drive home, Anthony was silent. Following my principle of “don’t act unless acted upon,” I chattered away like usual, filling the silence with meaningless small talk. He barely responded. Just before we got out of the car, he suddenly leaned in close. His dark hair fell forward, perfectly framing his high-bridged nose, beautifully shaped lips, and clean jawline. His eyelashes fluttered, his gaze drifting down to my lips. The sweet scent of liquor filled the confined space. I held my breath, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. It had been so long since we’d kissed. For the first time, I closed my eyes in anticipation. I never used to close my eyes. I never wanted to miss a second of looking at him. But the next words out of his mouth sent a chill through my entire body. “Lila…” He did it on purpose. My heart stuttered, a dull, delayed ache spreading through my chest. I turned my head away, pushing him back. “You’re drunk.” When Anthony got home, he found clean clothes and a glass of hangover soup waiting for him, just like always. I lay in bed, feigning sleep, lacking any of the courage or resolve to confront him. As I drifted off, I thought I heard him mutter through gritted teeth, “Hira, you’re really something else. How can you be so damn pathetic?” Don’t let his prim and proper appearance fool you. When Anthony gets angry, he can be much, much crueler. I was used to it. I fell asleep quickly. 3 Anthony’s indifference became blatant. He started disappearing, ignoring my calls and messages completely. Not being able to see his face made me anxious, like an addict in withdrawal. Finally, I saw him on a mutual friend’s social media story. He was at a quiet lounge, sitting with Lila, their heads bent together in conversation. I expertly cropped Lila out of the picture and saved it. I got the address from my friend and took a cab straight there. Anthony’s face soured the moment I walked in. Lila looked visibly uncomfortable, only calming down after he gave her a reassuring glance. “Hira! Good to see you! Come have a drink!” “Yeah, it’s been a while! We were starting to get used to you not keeping tabs on Anthony anymore.” Everyone laughed. I ignored Anthony’s glare and quickly joined the group, letting them pull me into their circle. Before long, I’d been pressured into drinking far too much and was feeling dizzy. I sat down in the spot they’d made for me, about to lean my head on Anthony’s shoulder to steady myself, when he abruptly stood up. He was tall, and the sudden movement drew everyone’s attention. “Ethan,” he said, his voice flat. “Switch seats with me.” A stunned silence fell over the table. All eyes darted between Anthony and me. “Dude, what are you doing? That’s so harsh,” a friend muttered, trying to intervene. I pressed my fingers to my temples, shocked at the sheer venom in his actions. He was so desperate to not be near me that he’d give up a seat next to Lila. “It’s fine…” I tried to smooth things over, but Anthony cut me off before I could finish. He shot me a sidelong glance, his tone dripping with contempt. “Don’t worry. She’s got thick skin. She can talk to anyone. Besides, she knows her way around a place like this.” Very few people knew that after high school, I’d worked in a hotel bar for six months to save up for college tuition. I’d survived that toxic environment, nearly being assaulted more than once. I had told Anthony about it during one of my most vulnerable moments. He had held me tight, stroking my back and comforting me. Now, he was using it as a weapon against me. I looked up at him in disbelief. For a split second, I saw a flash of surprise, then a flicker of regret in his eyes before he quickly looked away. No apology. Anthony never apologized. I was just so tired. I didn’t argue, didn’t yell. My heart just ached, a dull, heavy throb, like it was being struck with a blunt axe. A boy sat down next to me. He was wearing a light blue plaid shirt and had been quietly passing me tissues and hot water. Halfway through the night, Lila suddenly clutched her stomach, complaining of pain. Anthony was the first to react. Ignoring everyone, he scooped her up into his arms and rushed out of the bar. None of us, myself included, had ever seen him so frantic. “Wow, I always thought Anthony only showed actual human emotion when he was with Hira. Guess he really cares about his little junior, huh?” someone remarked, then trailed off, realizing I was still sitting right there. He quickly tried to backtrack. He glanced at me nervously. “It’s okay. Lila’s not very strong. Anthony has always worried about her,” I said, my eyes crinkling into a smile, though my voice was laced with a bitterness I couldn’t hide. “Still, that’s going too far, isn’t it? His girlfriend is right here…” someone else whispered. I took a sip of my drink, and my head throbbed even harder. The person next to me handed me another tissue and swapped my glass for a cup of hot water. Only then did I realize I was crying. “Haha, how embarrassing. For someone to see me like this.” Tears blurred my vision, but through the haze, my eyes landed on that stunningly handsome face. A jolt went through me, so powerful it cleared my head. My jaw dropped, and I forgot to even wipe the tears from my face. “What’s… what’s your name?” I stammered. The boy was sweet, his voice soft. “Ethan.”

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On the cusp of college graduation, my girlfriend, Sophie, suddenly broke up with me. She gave me a mansion, a Bentley, and a check for eight million dollars, saying it was thanks for my four years of companionship. I was completely blindsided. I needed to know why. But her voice was cold as ice. “Ethan, for people from my kind of family, love and marriage are two very different things. I’m going back home for an arranged marriage. Do you understand?” 1 My girlfriend was getting engaged, but the groom-to-be wasn’t me. When I rushed to the engagement party, I saw her on the stage. Sophie. She was wearing a couture gown and dripping with magnificent jewels, an image of breathtaking, dignified beauty. But the man standing across from her was a different story. He couldn’t have been more than five-foot-three, was grotesquely overweight, and his face was a constellation of greasy, angry pimples that looked like they were about to burst. This was the man my girlfriend was going to marry? My mind flashed back to the night before, and it felt like a lifetime ago. I had just gotten home to the mansion from my internship when Sophie pinned me to the bed. She leaned down, her lips on mine, and her voice was a husky whisper. “Tonight… forget I’m human.” And then, she devoured me. But when I woke up, she was gone. Her number was disconnected. Her social media—all of it—deleted. It was as if she had been erased from my world without a trace, leaving me reeling. Then, her lawyer showed up. He arrived at noon. He said Sophie had given him specific instructions to wait until then, so as not to disturb my rest. He handed me a folder. I read the documents, my mind a complete fog. It was a gift deed. It stated that Sophie Claire Sullivan was voluntarily bestowing upon me the mansion, the Bentley, and a savings account with eight million dollars as a thank-you gift for our four-year relationship. So, she had just dumped me out of the blue, and was now treating me like some kind of kept man, throwing money at me to make me go away? The thing is, I didn’t need the money. Not even a little. I’d told her as much when we first got together. But she had just smiled with that incredible confidence of hers and said, “No matter how rich you are, Ethan, you’re not richer than me.” I never bothered to argue. I was in love with her. But why would she end things? Just last night, she had been so passionate, so fierce, whispering how much she loved me over and over again. How could it all just be over? I forced myself to calm down. I made a few calls, pulled a few strings, and within an hour, I had the full picture. And that’s how I ended up here, at her engagement party. I could see it on her face—Sophie wasn’t happy. Was she being forced into this? “Kiss her! Kiss her!” someone in the crowd yelled. I watched in horror as the fat man reached for Sophie’s hand. She flinched back instinctively, pulling away. His face soured. His thick lips flapped, spraying spittle as he spoke. “Have you already forgotten what you promised me?” Sophie’s face went pale, but she took a hesitant step forward. She was being threatened. I was sure of it. I pushed my way through the crowd, shouting her name. “Sophie! If something’s wrong, just tell me! Don’t do this to yourself!” Every head in the room turned to look at me. When Sophie saw me, a flicker of joy ignited in her cold eyes, but it was extinguished in an instant, replaced by a wall of ice. “Who the hell is this kid?” the fat man sneered, glaring at me. “Calling my fiancée by her first name? Real chummy, aren’t you?” I was about to declare exactly who I was when Sophie cut me off. Her beautiful brows furrowed. “He’s just some pathetic simp. Have security throw him out. Ignore him.” 2 A simp? I could feel the weight of a hundred disdainful stares. Who ever respected a simp? But that wasn’t me. Not at all. Sophie and I met at a club fair. I’d just finished a basketball game and was so hungry I could have eaten a horse. I ended up sneaking some snacks from my roommate’s stash. He gave me some crap for it and dared me to call him ‘daddy’ for the rest of the day. It was just stupid dorm room banter, so I did it. Sophie, who happened to be nearby, immediately stepped in to defend me. She lectured my roommate about picking on people who were less fortunate, then she turned to me and lectured me about stealing. She had this fierce, take-charge personality, always playing the role of the righteous protector. After that, I played up the ‘poor, pitiful me’ angle. I started following her around everywhere, and before long, we were together. The whole campus knew me as the guy she’d “taken in.” People would whisper about her and her boy toy, and I worried it would embarrass her. I told her the truth—that my family was actually incredibly wealthy—but she just shrugged it off, not seeming to care. Our four years together weren’t some epic, dramatic love story, but they were filled with a sweet, deep affection. We barely ever fought. That’s why this sudden breakup was so impossible for me to accept. I had to know the real reason. I looked at her on the stage and started walking toward her. Before I could say a word, the fat man stepped in front of me. He was so short I had to look down to see him, and he had to crane his neck to look up at me. “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming up here.” He actually jumped, trying to slap me. I stepped back easily, dodging the blow. I frowned, my eyes fixed on Sophie. “You broke up with me for this piece of work?” “What the hell are you talking about?” Sophie rushed forward and, with a sharp swing, slapped me across the face. When he tried to hit me, I moved. When she hit me, I stood perfectly still. She was wearing heels. I was afraid she might lose her balance and fall. She was about to marry another man, and I was still worried about her. God, I was pathetic. I touched my stinging cheek, my heart aching with a grief so sharp it stole my breath. “So you’re the college boyfriend?” The man, Gus, walked over, a contemptuous smirk on his face. “A kept man who dares to act tough in front of me? Do you have any idea who I am? I’m Gus Coleman. The Colemans are the richest family in Port City!” I ignored him, my gaze locked on Sophie. “You just left. Without a word. That’s not fair to me.” “Fair?” Her voice was laced with scorn. “The mansion, the car, the money—I gave you everything. What more could you possibly want? Stop making a scene, Ethan. We’re over.” She frowned. “You know how it is for families like mine. Love and marriage are separate. Thank you for the last four years, but my husband can only be Gus Coleman. Is that clear enough for you?” “I just want to know one thing,” I said, my voice low. “Do you love me?” I knew all about arranged marriages between powerful families. My own parents were a product of one. But they were lucky; they were childhood sweethearts, and their love story was a natural progression. As for me… I was supposed to have an arranged marriage too, but it wasn’t a requirement. The Hayes family’s position in New York was so secure, we no longer needed alliances to solidify our power. “Love?” Sophie let out a bitter laugh. “Don’t be naive, Ethan. I’ve known since I was a little girl that I would have to marry for duty. I don’t believe in love. I was with you because you were good-looking, and because you were poor enough to be easily controlled.” She smirked. “There. You have your answer. Now go.” 3 So, what I thought was a deep, sweet love was just a fantasy I’d created in my own head. In Sophie’s eyes, I was nothing more than a handsome, obedient boy toy. It was laughable. I nodded slowly. If that’s how it was, then fine. The pain in my chest was a physical thing, but I knew how to let go. I came here to try and win her back. If that wasn’t possible, I would walk away. I gave her a sad smile. “Alright. I wish you happiness, Sophie.” With that, I turned to leave the stage. Sophie’s hand clenched into a fist, but she looked away, refusing to meet my eyes. But Gus stepped in front of me, blocking my path. His laugh was a mocking sneer. “You came all this way. You might as well stay and watch the ceremony. Leaving now would be a personal insult to me, to the Coleman family… to all of Port City!” “That’s a bold statement,” I said with a small, dangerous smile. I’d heard similar lines before. New York is a big city; not everyone knows who I am. It’s inevitable that some idiot would try to puff out his chest in front of me. But after I’d dealt with a few of them, people learned to watch their mouths. Gus didn’t catch the contempt in my voice. He just clapped his hands. Instantly, a crowd of men in black suits emerged from the wings, surrounding the stage. “Listen, kid,” Gus said, his voice low and menacing. “If I’m not happy today, you’re not walking out of this room.” Sophie rushed over, her eyes blazing. “Ethan, get out of here, now! I don’t want to see you again!” “Did I say you could speak?” Gus’s face went cold. “You think I’m an idiot? You think I can’t see you’re trying to protect this kid?” Protecting me? I looked deeply at Sophie and saw a flicker of genuine worry in her eyes. Was it possible… that everything she’d just said was a lie? But she just shook her head, her voice softening as she turned back to Gus. “I just don’t want any connection to my past. Besides, this is our engagement party. What does it look like if my ex-boyfriend is here? How would that make you look?” Her tone was suddenly gentle. “Gus, darling, I’m only thinking of you.” Gus’s expression softened slightly, but he was still puffed up with his own importance. “I’m not worried about how I look. In my little corner of the world, in this city, I am God!” He pointed at me. “Get off the stage and go watch from the audience!” I nodded, gave Sophie a look that was half-smile, half-riddle, and walked down the steps. The moment my feet hit the floor, four men in black suits surrounded me. They escorted me to a table in the far corner and sat me down. They were making sure I couldn’t escape. From the stage, Gus yelled, “Just sit there and enjoy the show, kid. You’re not leaving until I say you can.” I just smiled faintly. “You won’t let me leave now. But when you’re begging me to go later, I might not want to.” “Shut your mouth!” Sophie snapped. I just smiled and said nothing. They wanted to play this game. Fine. They wouldn’t like how it ended. Gus added, “I hear you’re from New York. That’s great. Some very important people from the City will be here later. Real big shots. I’ll introduce you. A little networking for you. Broaden your horizons.” “Why, thank you. I can’t wait,” I said, unable to suppress another laugh. Just then, a group of young men swaggered over. They were all loud, arrogant, and reeked of privilege. Gus’s cronies, no doubt. “Kid, you really should have just stayed home.” “You actually think Sophie can protect you?” “Let me tell you something. Even if you hadn’t shown up today, Gus wasn’t going to let you off the hook. You think he’s going to let the guy who slept with his fiancée for four years just walk away alive?” “I’ve got my phone right here. Want me to call the cops for you?” They laughed, their mockery echoing in the large hall. I just fiddled with my phone, not bothering to engage with them. But one thing was now crystal clear. Sophie was, indeed, trying to protect me.

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On the way to pick up my wedding dress, my fiancé, Finn Sullivan, was kidnapped. He survived, but he forgot me. Every time marriage was mentioned, he would pass out. The doctor diagnosed it as a dissociative fugue, a second personality triggered by the trauma. Then, I found out I was pregnant. “The baby might be the key,” the doctor suggested, “to unlocking the Finn who loves you.” I clutched the ultrasound report, hope blooming in my chest, and went to find him. But instead, I heard him joking with his friends. “Damn, Finn, you’re playing the long game. Faking a whole second personality just to dodge the wedding! What’s next, a third and fourth?” “Nope! I love Elvira. This is the only time I’ll ever lie to her. Once I sleep with ten more girls, I’m done.” “Only ten? That’s not enough to unlock all the achievements, man. I say you keep this charade up for another year. Elvira would marry you even if you were a ghost.” Finn’s voice turned cold as he scolded his friend. “I can’t stand to see her upset for that long! Now hurry up and find me some girls. I want the freaky ones who are still technically virgins. One every three days. Nothing can delay my wedding to Elvira!” I shredded the ultrasound report with trembling hands and walked straight back to the clinic to schedule an abortion. 1 The doctor was surprised to see me back so soon, assuming I wasn’t feeling well. When I told him I needed the procedure, he stared in disbelief. “Elvira, you both struggled so hard to conceive. If you terminate now, it might trigger your fiancé, make his condition worse!” A bitter smile twisted my lips. “If I told him the truth, that would probably kill him.” After all, he was currently luxuriating in the pleasure of playing the field, convinced he was getting away with it. I couldn’t wrap my head around it—the man who had begged me, tears in his eyes, to marry him, was now faking an illness just to cheat. The doctor couldn’t dissuade me, but he insisted on calling Finn before I signed the consent forms. “Ms. Hayes, this isn’t just your decision. Even if his illness makes him say he doesn’t want the child right now, he needs to be here to sign for you, to be with you during the surgery. If there’s a misunderstanding, it needs to be cleared up face-to-face…” I placed a gentle hand on my stomach. I didn’t stop him. I had PCOS; pregnancy was a miracle for me. Finn hadn’t cared about the risks; he’d even fought with his parents to marry me. If this child was leaving us, Finn deserved to be there to say goodbye. But as soon as the doctor explained the situation, Finn scoffed. “How much is Elvira Hayes paying you to stage this little drama? I told you, I don’t know her, let alone want to marry her.” “Tell her to stop trying to trap me with these games. Who knows if the kid is even mine?” The abrupt dial tone and the echo of his cruel laughter hung in the sterile silence of the operating room. I signed my own name and closed my eyes. When I woke up in recovery, my phone was lit up with notifications. All from Finn. [Whatever we were before, now I am me, and you are you. If you have the energy to hire actors to fool me, you should use it to move out of my house!] He was very thoughtful. He’d already rented me a fully furnished apartment in the same complex. He’d even paid the first month’s rent. To avoid suspicion, he’d signed a one-year lease with the landlord. [Consider us even. You don’t owe me for the rent.] I glanced at the blurred, bloody image on the ultrasound printout and replied calmly. [Okay. Thank you.] That rent money would be the last responsibility he ever took for this child. I stayed in the hospital for three days. He never contacted me again. But his social media was a constant stream of flashing lights and flowing alcohol. It was as if he was trying to reclaim all the wild youth he’d missed out on because of me. I knew he was posting it for me to see. I had another, burner account that followed him, and none of those posts were visible there. So I played my part. I “liked” every video. When I was checking out, I saw him and a doctor pushing a gurney down the hallway at a run. The moment he saw me, he quickly looked away, pretending I wasn’t there. But I heard the ER doctor shouting orders. “Prep OR 1! We need O-negative blood, stat! Patient has a ruptured luteal cyst, massive hemorrhage!” “What? We’re out of stock?” The doctor hung up and quickly relayed the situation to Finn. The man who had just ignored me stopped dead in his tracks and ran back towards me. “Elvira Hayes! If you donate blood for Lara, I’ll overlook you stalking me!” I stared at him, dumbfounded. “I’m not stalking you…” “Enough! Save the excuses! This is life or death!” He grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the doctor. “She’s O-negative. Take whatever you need!” I struggled, but his grip was like iron. I asked him, my voice dripping with cold irony, “I thought you didn’t know me? How do you know I have a rare blood type?” I held his gaze, waiting for his answer. 2 Finn scratched his head, snapping impatiently, “Is this really the time to be asking questions? You keep saying we were in love for six years. Isn’t it normal that in a crisis, I’d instinctively remember your blood type?” But I had just had an abortion. I was still spotting. How could I possibly donate blood? And even if I could, why should I help him clean up his mess? “I just had a miscarriage,” I said flatly. “I can’t donate. Find someone else.” Finn’s face twisted in anger. “Elvira, you claim to love me, but when I ask you for a little blood, you refuse? You’d even lie about a miscarriage!” “I can’t believe you’d just let someone die! No wonder I can’t remember ever loving you!” He was right about one thing: if he had truly loved me, he wouldn’t be faking amnesia to cheat on me. He would have seen how pale my face still was. He certainly wouldn’t be forcing me to donate blood for his mistress. A monitor nearby started screaming. The ER doctor, wasting no more time, signaled for the gurney to be rushed to the OR. Finn tried to drag me to the blood bank, but I dug in my heels. Enraged, he swept me off my feet and threw me over his shoulder. “Elvira, willing or not, I’ll owe you for this. Fine! I’ll marry you on the original date!” All the fight drained out of me. He had once risked his life to save mine. I would consider this debt repaid. As I watched my dark red blood flow into the bag, my heart turned to ice, drop by drop. As soon as the bag was full, Finn sprinted off with the nurse towards the operating room. To his retreating back, I whispered, “Finn Sullivan, we’re even.” I walked out of the donation room, a wave of dizziness hitting me. My vision went black, and I collapsed. When I woke up, the doctor looked like he wanted to scold me, but it melted into a heavy sigh. “Take care of yourself. With your condition, you can’t donate blood again for at least six months.” I smiled and agreed. As the doctor left, I overheard a young nurse whispering to him. “Sir, why didn’t you tell her we couldn’t reach her emergency contact? What if she misunderstands…?” “She won’t. That girl sees everything clearly. It’s a shame she fell for the wrong man.” I picked up my phone. The doctor had called Finn over a dozen times on my behalf. Not a single call was answered. Instead, he had texted me a furious message. [Elvira, can you stop being so dramatic? Know your place!] In that moment, I was relieved he hadn’t answered. I couldn’t imagine the vicious things he would have said to humiliate me. I didn’t reply. I lay in bed for a full day before I had the strength to walk. The sun was shining outside. I went to the hospital’s rooftop garden to get some air and unexpectedly ran into Finn’s friends. They were all carrying elaborate fruit baskets and bouquets of flowers. I thought they were there for me and instinctively turned to leave. But they surrounded me, eyeing my hospital gown with amusement. “Well, well, well. Knew Finn was here with his girlfriend, so you decided to put on a little pity play, huh?” “It was just a little blood donation. Do you have to act like you’re on death’s door?” “Gotta say, the pale makeup looks very natural. Seamless. We always said you were manipulative, but Finn never believed us…” Finn’s friends always thought I wasn’t good enough for him. If he hadn’t forced them to treat me like family, they never would have accepted me. Now, playing along with Finn’s charade, they could finally unleash their true feelings. Finn came downstairs to meet them. He froze when he saw me, then his brow furrowed. “Elvira, seriously? I already promised we’d still have the wedding. Now you’re paying doctors to help you fake an illness so you can spy on me? Is this fun for you?” “Do you have any idea how suffocating this is?” “I’m telling you right now, if you keep this up after we’re married, we’ll end up divorced anyway!” 3 “Don’t bother,” I said, my voice steady. “I don’t need you to marry me.” In our six years together, he had always been free. When he wanted to drink, I sat quietly beside him, never rushing him. If I wasn’t appropriate for the occasion, I waited for his call to pick him up, then took care of him without complaint when he was drunk. When he wanted to take a trip with his friends, I booked the tickets and planned the itinerary. Even when he offered me his phone to check, I never did. I loved him, and I didn’t want to repeat my mother’s mistake—her suffocating control had driven my father to divorce. I thought I had maintained a healthy distance in our relationship. Before his “accident,” we were inseparable, still in the honeymoon phase. But now, I understood. My love was suffocating him. Was that the real reason he was faking this illness, seeking a thrill? Our eyes met. I saw no trace of affection in his gaze. The accusations on the tip of my tongue died in my throat. Finn, unsettled by my stare, grabbed a bouquet of lilies from his friend and shoved it into my arms. “Fine. Don’t play the victim after getting what you wanted. Take the flowers and go.” He still thought I was the same girl who could be placated with a small gift. He didn’t believe that the woman who swore she would marry no one but him could ever truly leave. I handed the flowers back to his friend. “These are for your girlfriend. It’s not appropriate for me to take them.” “I donated the blood willingly. You really don’t have to sacrifice yourself by marrying me.” A flicker of panic crossed Finn’s face. Shouldn’t Elvira be ecstatic? Why is she insisting I don’t have to marry her? Is she actually mad this time? Anxiety flashed in his eyes. “Elvira, I…” His friends started coughing pointedly. He quickly corrected himself. “Elvira, I’m a man of my word.” I just smiled. “You should go be with your girlfriend. I’m checking out now.” My generosity seemed to unnerve him further. He felt something was very different about me today, but he couldn’t pinpoint what. His friends, seeing his hesitation, slapped him on the back and dragged him away. “Come on, man, stop staring. Your Lara will get jealous! It’s just the usual drama—first the pity play, now playing hard to get. Same old female tricks. You’re too naive, easy to manipulate.” “Seriously! Look what you did, man. You’re not a teenager anymore. How did you manage to cause her to hemorrhage? Luckily, Lara’s understanding and doesn’t hold it against you, unlike some people who demand marriage just for donating a little blood…” Their words, intentionally loud enough for me to hear, didn’t cause the expected pain. I just felt cold, a chill that settled deep in my marrow, a cold that even the bright sunlight couldn’t warm. I watched them leave and then discharged myself. While Finn was away, I hired a cleaning service to help me pack. The woman looked at the beautifully decorated apartment, ready for newlyweds, and hesitated. “Miss, all this wedding stuff is brand new. Are you sure you want to throw it away?” “Yes,” I said. “The groom died. We won’t be needing it.” She immediately apologized and consoled me. Afraid of triggering me, she started by packing away the wedding photos and dozens of photo albums first. In just half a day, the home I had so carefully decorated lost all its warmth and joy. A cold house for a cold heart. The cleaner looked at the dozen bags filled with symbols of our love, shaking her head with a sigh. “Miss, you have to look forward.” I smiled and nodded. After she left, I made sure there was no trace of me left in the apartment. I deleted my fingerprints from the smart lock and pulled my suitcase out the door.

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My adoptive brother framed me for breaking his jade pendant. As punishment, my sister sent me to be a lab test subject—despite the 95% risk. “Your sacrifice will help River join the lab,” they said. Unknown to them, River had secretly signed to have me converted into a robot permanently. I called our parents. “Stop being difficult,” they chided, while buying River a Patek Philippe in the background. So I told the lab: “Begin the simulation. The android is ready.” Three months later, I returned—perfectly obedient, emotionless. Everyone was satisfied… Until River’s consent form surfaced. That day, both my sisters lost their minds. 1 The day I was released from the lab was also my birthday. Of course, everyone forgot. They had promised me that if I participated in the experiment, they would give me a birthday present, that they would finally accept me. But when the day came, they were too busy showering River with flowers and gifts, holding car doors open for him. I was left in the corner, forgotten, like a true machine. They had doted on River for eighteen years. Everyone in the city knew him as the young master of the powerful Shaw family. And me? I was just the long-lost son, found after eighteen years, an outsider who never truly belonged. I shouldn’t have hoped for a love that was never meant for me. But when I saw my second sister, Celine, I mechanically reached out my hand. The chip in my brain reminded me of her promise. “Celine,” I said, my voice flat. “It’s my birthday. You promised me.” She was startled for a moment, then let out a short, sharp laugh. “I was just saying that. You actually took it seriously? You never learn, do you?” My eldest sister, Nora, frowned and pulled out a diamond-encrusted watch. “Celine, if he wants it, just give it to him. The Shaw family isn’t short on cash.” But River whined from the side, “Nora, you said you’d only celebrate one brother’s birthday.” At that, Celine snatched the watch and dangled it in front of my face. “You want this?” she taunted, a smirk playing on her lips as her eyes fell to my wrist. “Have you looked in a mirror? With hands that ugly, even the finest watch would just make people laugh at you.” A grotesque black tattoo snaked around my wrist like a crawling insect. Celine had told me it was a protective charm she’d gotten specially for me, that I had to have it tattooed on to ensure my safety. I was so happy, so desperate for her affection, that I endured the searing pain of the needle as it etched the design into my skin. Later, at a family banquet, she grabbed my hand and showed it off to everyone, laughing hysterically. “This illiterate doesn’t even recognize Spanish. Look, everyone.” “He tattooed ‘River’s Dog’ on himself. What an idiot.” Only then did I understand. It wasn’t a blessing. It was a brand. I tried to get it removed, but she threatened me. If I dared to touch it, she would disown me. So I swallowed my pride and endured, right up until she sent me to the lab, right up until River secretly had me converted into a robot. Now, my face was a mask. I picked up a sharp piece of gravel from the roadside and began to scrape at the tattoo on my wrist. A robot doesn’t need a sister. This brand served no purpose. The stone tore at my flesh, drawing blood. Celine’s expression changed. “What are you doing?” she hissed, grabbing my hand. “Did you forget what I said? If you get rid of this, I’m done with you.” I curved my lips into a perfectly calibrated smile. “You said it was ugly, Celine. So I’m removing it.” She was stunned. She threw the watch on the ground. “Fine, take it, you psycho.” I ignored her, continuing to scrape away at the ink until my wrist was a bloody mess, all traces of the black letters gone. Nora stood by, watching coldly. Only when I was finished did she toss a tissue at me. “Celine will never accept you,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion. “It’s good that you finally see that.” “River is our real family. Even though Mom and Dad brought you back, in our hearts, we only have one brother, and that’s River.” “Letting you stay with the Shaw family is already a great tolerance on our part. Don’t expect anything more. Do you understand?” I stood up, grinding the tissue and the diamond watch under my heel. “I understand.” She smiled, satisfied. “As long as you remain as obedient as you are now, I won’t make things difficult for you.” She had no idea that the obedient brother she was so pleased with was an emotionless robot. No matter how they humiliated me now, I would feel nothing. 2 I was a world-class scientist. To find my family, I had concealed my identity and returned to my home country. But after my biological parents found me, I discovered they already had an adopted son, River, whom they had cherished for years. My two sisters looked down on my humble background and my non-existent academic record. “You didn’t even finish elementary school?” “How could we have a brother this stupid?” “If word gets out, we’ll be the laughingstock of the city’s elite.” I was about to explain that I had been scouted for a special program abroad at a young age and had been involved in classified research ever since, which was why my records were blank. But before I could speak, River ran down the stairs with a suitcase, his eyes downcast, feigning heartbreak. “Celine,” he said sadly, “you have your real brother now. I guess this imposter should leave.” She snorted. “Who dares call you an imposter? I, Celine Shaw, have only one brother, and that’s River.” She tossed my file aside. “This waste of space who didn’t even finish grade school could never be my brother.” I wisely kept my mouth shut. No one in this house wanted me. But I had been alone for over a decade. I craved the warmth of a family. At first, when my parents brought me back, they were kind. My mother held me and cried until her eyes were swollen. My father swore he would make up for the twenty years I was lost. It was only my sisters, afraid of hurting River’s feelings, who were cold to me. I’d spent my life calculating numbers, solving complex problems in a laboratory. I was used to succeeding. I thought family was just another equation to be solved. I wracked my brain trying to please them. When Celine told me to get the tattoo, I didn’t hesitate, despite my fear of pain. I burned my fingers blistering them while making hangover soup for my father and sister when they came home late from business dinners. But I didn’t know that nothing I did could ever compete with a few simple words from River, who had been in this family for twenty years. Fueled by his manipulations, their attitude toward me soured. Then came the day River smashed the family heirloom—a jade pendant his mother had given him—on the floor and burst into tears. “Brother,” he cried, “if you wanted it, I would have given it to you. I would give you anything. Why did you have to destroy it?” Just like that, my sisters sent me to the AI lab. When I came out, I was a robot, incapable of feeling. River had a chip implanted in my brain, forcing me to obey his commands. Just like now. He was lounging lazily on the sofa. “Brother,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension, “go fetch me a basin of water to wash my feet.” Celine was touching up her makeup nearby. She smiled, her red lips curving. “You heard him. Go on. If you don’t listen to River, don’t blame me for kicking you out of this house.” River gave a mysterious smile. “Don’t worry, Celine. My brother’s all better now. He’ll be a good boy. Won’t you? Watch.” I silently fetched a basin of water and placed it before him. Celine looked surprised, then her expression softened into a smug grin. “Shameless. You’d do anything to stay in the Shaw family, wouldn’t you?” River smiled and dipped his feet into the water. The next second, he kicked the basin over. “It’s scalding! Are you trying to burn me alive?” The basin of hot water drenched me. River pouted. “Turned into a robot…” he muttered, then glanced at Celine and quickly cut himself off. Celine put down her lipstick, her brow furrowed. “River, what did you just say? What robot?” He laughed it off. “Oh, Celine, I just meant he’s dumber than a robot.” He thought for a moment. “You think if we actually turned him into a robot, he’d be any smarter than he is now?” Celine’s expression turned serious. “River, he’s still Mom and Dad’s biological son. You can prank him all you want, but you have to let him live.” “And don’t you ever talk about turning him into a robot again. If Nora heard you, she’d lecture you for days.” River’s face darkened, but he forced a smile. “Of course not. I was just joking. With you and Nora spoiling me, I’m more than satisfied. Why would I need to mess with him?” Celine smiled and patted his head. “My sweet brother is the best. No need to waste your time on an idiot.” She tossed a hand towel from the sofa toward me. “Wipe yourself off.” But River hooked his foot around the towel and kicked it away. “Sister, that’s your towel. I won’t let you give it to him.” He smirked. “Besides, the floor is still wet.” “Brother,” he said, his voice sickly sweet, “since you’re already soaked, why don’t you just roll around on the floor and dry it up?” Celine stood up and checked her watch. “Do as River says. I have to go out.” She gently straightened River’s collar. “I know you’re upset, but remember, for Mom and Dad’s sake, do not turn him into a robot. This is not something you can be impulsive about. I’m only saying this for your own good.” River looked up, blinking innocently. “Okay, I’ll listen to you, sister.” I lay silently on the floor. The water seeped through my synthetic skin, trickling through the tiny pores of my circuit boards and into my central processing unit. Celine didn’t know. The little brother she trusted so completely had already turned me into a robot. And a robot, when severely water-damaged, will break down. 3 Perhaps Celine’s warning only served to ignite River’s cruelty. His abuse at home escalated. “Brother, you were lost for so many years. You don’t know how to do anything. How did you even survive?” he taunted. “Did you eat out of garbage cans like a homeless person?” I scanned my robotic database and replied calmly, “I know how to cook for myself.” My placid demeanor seemed to enrage him. His face twisted, and he slapped me hard across the face. “You worthless dog!” “I am your master. You should say that you like eating from garbage cans. Understand?” He forgot. I was a robot now. I only gave a cold, mechanical reply. “I’m sorry, I do not understand your command.” This made him even angrier. He kicked me hard. “Robots are so stupid. Artificial intelligence? More like artificial idiot. The guys at the lab promised me a human-based model would be more responsive, but you’re still so dumb.” He smirked. “Robot brother, go get your little brother a glass of water. Make sure it’s over 195 degrees Fahrenheit.” He pressed my hand down on the table. “Now say it. ‘I like to eat garbage.’” I looked him in the eye. “You like to eat garbage.” His face contorted with rage. He poured the scalding water from the glass all over my hand. The synthetic skin immediately turned red and blistered. “Say it! Say you like to eat garbage!” he shrieked. “Say it, or I’ll burn you to death.” He seemed to have forgotten I was a robot. I curved my lips into a slight smile. “You like to eat garbage.” He screamed and smashed the glass against my head. Then he grabbed a nearby glass kettle full of boiling water and poured it over my head. “Stupid, worthless dog! You defy me even as a robot!” Just then, the door opened, and Nora walked in. She took in the chaotic scene, her brow furrowing. “River, what are you doing? Why are you so angry?” River froze, then his expression immediately shifted to one of pitiful innocence, tears welling in his eyes. “Nora, he insulted me. I… I just lost control. You know I can’t control my temper. I didn’t mean it.” Nora looked at me, lying on the floor, my body covered in burns, and her expression soured. “You’ve made such a mess of him. Now we’ll have to take him to the hospital. It’s so much trouble.” But I pushed myself up from the floor with my raw, bloody hands. “It’s alright, Nora,” I said. “There’s no need to go to the hospital.” She was annoyed. “What are you trying to prove, Caleb? You think you can just walk around looking like a monster? You’ll become the laughingstock of the family.” I was confused. I was a robot. I shouldn’t go to a hospital. Before I could process her words, the steam had seeped deep into my central processor. BEEP. I collapsed. A red light started flashing on my forehead. “System failure. Please initiate repairs immediately.” I saw Nora’s face change, her composure cracking. “Caleb!” She shook my arm, shouting my name. “Caleb, what are you doing? What system failure?” Her voice rose to a hysterical shriek. “Someone call an ambulance!”

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I was the princess of the Phoenix Clan, born with the purest bloodline. On the day of my coming-of-age ceremony, when I revealed my true form before the entire clan, I transformed not into a glorious phoenix, but into a wretched, lowly black serpent. Yet the stray jade rabbit I had rescued manifested a true phoenix form, and was hailed by all as a divine being. I was condemned as an impure mongrel, cast down from the altar and into the mire. My lord father, the Phoenix King, declared the rabbit was his long-lost daughter and summoned divine lightning to flay the flesh from my bones. My own brother tore my spiritual core from my chest to present as a gift to his newfound sister. And my fiancé, the man I grew up with, took the rabbit into his arms, the two of them whispering sweet nothings to each other. As I lay dying, the rabbit herself cast my fading spirit into the Chasm of Annihilation, where gods and immortals are extinguished forever. Even in death, one question haunted me: if my blood was truly that of a phoenix, why had I become a serpent? When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn, one day before the ceremony. 1 “Your Highness, the Gown of a Hundred Feathers has arrived for tomorrow’s ceremony! The Emperor himself also prepared a phoenix hairpin for you. He said it would be a perfect match!” Rosalie chattered excitedly, her eyes stealing glances at the magnificent gown. Woven from the plumes of a hundred different celestial birds with threads of pure gold, it shimmered with an iridescent light. Her hand reached out, wanting to touch it. “It has been millennia since the clan has woven a new Gown of a Hundred Feathers,” she breathed in awe. “It is truly beautiful.” The familiar words sent a tremor through my body. The searing agony of divine lightning, the brutal tearing as my spiritual core was carved from my chest—the memories were as vivid as if they had just happened. My eyes reddened. Was I… reborn? In my past life, I had been ecstatic to receive this gown. Ever since my mother, the Phoenix Queen, had perished, no new phoenix had been born into our clan for thousands of years. All their hopes rested on me. I was the only child of the Phoenix Queen and the Golden Dragon King, the princess with the purest bloodline. On the eve of my ceremony, the entire clan had pooled their resources to create this gown, a symbol of my destiny. I had lovingly put it on and gone to my ceremony, filled with joy. But there, before the eyes of thousands, I had transformed into a wretched snake. Horror swept through the crowd. My lord father’s face darkened. “Lyra, this is a sacred occasion! Stop this foolishness and reveal your true form at once!” I was just as stunned, writhing in my serpent form, trying desperately to summon my power. But no matter how many times I tried, I remained a snake. On my ninety-ninth attempt, a clear, piercing phoenix cry echoed from the heavens. I looked up, dumbfounded. It was the jade rabbit I had rescued. A golden light erupted from her body, followed by a cascade of dazzling, multi-colored feathers. She was a phoenix. The clan fell to their knees, hailing her as a divine being and condemning me as an impure mongrel. I looked to my father, tears blurring my vision. But he was looking at the rabbit, his own eyes wet with tears. “I never imagined… my daughter, Sylvana, has been lost to us for millennia, her identity usurped by this lowly serpent! How dare she!” With a wave of his hand, he brought down the heavens’ fury. Divine lightning struck me, tearing my flesh and drenching me in my own blood. Through my screams, my brother, Kael, personally ripped my spiritual core from my body and presented it to the rabbit as a welcome gift. “You have suffered, my dear sister,” he said. “Take the core of this imposter. Though its blood is vile, it may serve as a trifle for your amusement.” I lay dying in a pool of my own blood, my last hope turning to my fiancé, the Celestial Prince Valerius. We had trained together since childhood. He would surely… “Sylvana, you are the true phoenix!” Valerius, who had always been so cool and reserved, was beaming as he swept her into his arms. “Now, we can finally be together, out in the open!” And I, at that moment, was enduring a pain that consumed my very soul. Sylvana shot me a triumphant smile before personally shoving me into the Chasm of Annihilation. Icy, ethereal winds tore through my body, carving wounds so deep my bones were exposed. But even that pain was nothing compared to the agony in my heart. In the last second before my consciousness faded, I saw a faint golden phoenix light flicker from within the marrow of my bones. Even in death, I could not understand. The pain of my past life was seared into my soul. This time, I would uncover the truth. 2 Just as I had before, I smiled and accepted the Gown of a Hundred Feathers. But as I lowered my head, a chilling light flashed in my eyes. Rosalie had served me for thousands of years. She was also the one who had first found the injured rabbit. I had saved the rabbit’s life, only to die a bitter death at her hands. In my past life, Rosalie must have colluded with Sylvana to bring about my ruin. I suppressed the murderous urge that rose within me and made an excuse to send her away. “I’ve heard that snow lotuses are blooming on the northern peaks. Go and fetch some for me.” Rosalie’s eyes flickered with panic. “Your Highness, your ceremony is tomorrow! How can I leave for the mountains at a time like this…?” My expression turned to ice. A wave of innate spiritual pressure emanated from me, and my gaze pinned her to the spot. “You will do as I command.” Crushed by the sheer force of my bloodline, Rosalie collapsed to her knees, trembling too violently to speak. She could only bow her head to the floor, over and over. With a wave of my hand, a current of golden energy forcibly teleported her away. If not for the memory of her millennia of service, I would have killed her on the spot. But I had no proof yet, and a flicker of uncertainty held my hand. I would have my justice when the truth was revealed. I tossed the gown to the floor and left my chambers. I went to the grand library and searched for hours until I found a text detailing a secret ritual to test one’s bloodline. I didn’t know if Sylvana had already tampered with my blood, but I had to try. Following the ancient method, I summoned a single, crimson-gold phoenix feather to my palm. It was one of the few things my mother had left me, a true feather from her own divine form. A dagger appeared in my other hand. I reversed the grip and plunged it into my chest. I let three drops of blood from my heart fall onto the feather, then set it alight. Within the flames, a crimson-gold light pulsed. As blood and feather burned away, a sweet, fragrant smoke filled the air. The moment the fire died, a shimmering image of a golden phoenix appeared in its place. I stared, and tears streamed down my face. It was true. I was my mother’s daughter. The blood of the phoenix flowed through my veins. After being slandered and slaughtered, I finally had proof. My true form could never be a lowly black serpent. “Lyra? Are you in there?” A knock at the door. It was Valerius. Hatred surged in my heart, but I forced my voice to be soft. “Valerius, could you do something for me?” He was confused but, as always, utterly obedient. He left without even asking why. When he returned, he handed me a tuft of white rabbit fur and a small jade vial containing a few drops of heart’s blood. I thanked him. The cool, reserved prince looked at me with eyes full of tenderness. He raised a hand as if to touch my hair, then pulled back shyly. “Lyra, after your ceremony tomorrow, we can finally be married.” Looking at this man, so seemingly devoted to me, I felt a wave of disorientation. The man who had discarded me like trash in my past life, and the man who loved me so deeply now—which was the real Valerius? My heart was a frozen stone. I mumbled a perfunctory farewell and closed the door. Immediately, I dripped the rabbit’s blood onto another of my mother’s feathers and lit it with a flame. This time, a pure white light flickered in the fire. When it burned out, it left not a sweet fragrance, but a foul stench. And when the flames died and I saw the image within, I gasped. It was also a phoenix. Sylvana… was truly a phoenix. But my mother had only given birth to one daughter. By all rights, I should be the only phoenix in existence. What in the name of the heavens was going on? 3 I walked out, my face grim. I couldn’t make sense of it. My ceremony was imminent. Was I doomed to repeat the tragedy of my past life? I wandered aimlessly until I bumped into someone. “Lyra? You seem distressed. What’s wrong?” I looked up. It was my brother, Kael. He looked at me with deep concern, reaching for my arm. “Are you not feeling well? Tell me, I’ll get you some restorative pills.” He looked so caring, just as he had when we were young. I was just a nascent spirit when our mother perished. Our father, lost in grief, began to wander the realms, leaving Kael to face the pressure of the clan alone. He handled all the clan’s affairs while raising me. The first spell I learned, the first dress I owned—they were all from him. He had poured his entire being into raising me, spoiling me until I was the undisputed princess of the Phoenix Clan. And yet, it was he who had carved out my core. He who had watched me struggle in agony, watched my heart turn to ash. He had taken that bloody core and presented it to Sylvana with a smile. “Only a phoenix with a bloodline as pure as Sylvana’s,” he had said, “is worthy of being my sister.” The memory made my hands tremble. I forced a sweet smile. “Brother, I don’t like that rabbit. Will you kill her for me?”

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The first time my boyfriend came to my house, my parents prepared a feast. Just as we all sat down, his phone rang. “Bro, where did you put my lacy panties? I just got out of the shower and can’t find them.” A girl’s voice, pouting and petulant, echoed from the speaker. “And when are you coming back to blow-dry my hair? If you don’t come back, I’ll just let it drip. You’ll be sorry when I catch a cold!” My parents and I exchanged stunned glances. But my boyfriend, Dylan, ignored their thunderous expressions and stood up to leave. Frantic to salvage our three-year relationship, I reminded him that this dinner was meant to discuss our marriage plans. His response was cold. “Chloe needs me. If you insist on going through with these pointless formalities, then maybe we should just put the wedding on hold.” 1 “Dylan, this is the first time you’re meeting my parents,” I said, tugging at his sleeve, my voice a desperate whisper. My father’s face was already a mask of displeasure. My mother, ever the diplomat, tried to smooth things over. “Perhaps his sister is still young, and with no other adults at home, it’s understandable to be worried.” Dylan seized the excuse. “Thank you, Mrs. Cross. You understand. My sister is just a kid, really. She’s always been very attached to me.” But I didn’t understand. This was a hugely important day for both of us. His behavior in front of my parents was a direct reflection of how much he valued me. Apparently, not as much as his sister’s hair. Less than a minute later, her call came again, her voice now laced with tears. “You’ve been at her place for two hours and sixteen minutes. If you’re not home in fourteen minutes, I’m not eating dinner!” The precision was startling. It sounded less like a sister’s plea and more like a jealous lover’s ultimatum. I stared at Dylan, waiting to see how he would respond. His tone was full of alarm. “You can’t do that, Chloe. You know you have a sensitive stomach.” With that, he rushed towards the door. “Why don’t you bring your sister over to eat with us?” my mother offered, still trying to salvage the evening. After all, Dylan and I had been together for three years; she didn’t want to see it all unravel over a phone call. “You don’t live far.” “Okay!” Dylan yelled back, already halfway to the elevator. All we got was his retreating back. The three of us sat in silence, staring at the cooling food. The pork belly my mother had simmered for two hours sat untouched in Dylan’s bowl, as cold as my heart. “Aria, you have a weak stomach too. Have a few bites first,” my mother said, her eyes full of pity. “Don’t overthink it, Aria,” my father added, trying to comfort me in his own way. “When Dylan gets back, your mother and I will have a serious talk with him. Some men are just immature before they’re married. They grow up eventually.” An hour later, Dylan arrived with his sister, Chloe, in tow. I was intensely curious about this Chloe. The moment I opened the door, my eyes fell on her. A kid? Please. She looked like she was a 240-month-old baby. Chloe marched past my family and surveyed the table. “Ugh, everything is so bland. I like spicy food. Why didn’t you make anything spicy?” Even my good-natured mother’s face hardened. “My daughter can’t handle spicy food,” she replied, her voice clipped. “So picky,” Chloe muttered with a pout, then turned to Dylan with a coquettish air. “Bro, even if she marries you, you have to promise there will always be spicy dishes at every meal.” Dylan gently tapped her nose. “Of course. Besides, your sister-in-law is a great cook.” Excuse me? So cooking was now my designated duty? And we were expected to live with his sister in our new house? I glared at Dylan, demanding an explanation. He seemed completely oblivious to my anger, stroking Chloe’s hair as he spoke to me. “I’ve already promised Chloe the master bedroom in our new place. We can take one of the other rooms with the baby, and the guest room can be for my parents when they visit. You don’t mind, do you?” 2 I’d have to be a saint not to mind. And more importantly, he had never once discussed any of this with me. “Dylan, my family paid for half of that house. Why is it only your family living in it?” I asked, my voice dangerously calm. He was taken aback, stammering guiltily. “What’s mine and yours? Once you marry me, you’re part of my family, aren’t you?” My parents’ brows furrowed in unison. But before they could speak, Chloe stepped in front of Dylan, her voice sharp. “You’re not even married yet and you’re already obsessed with the house! Once you marry my brother, what’s yours is his, and what’s his is mine.” She turned back to Dylan, pouting. “See, bro? I told you she was no good. She’ll never love you as much as I do.” I love you. Was that something a sister says to her brother? Just as I was about to throw the bizarre pair out, Dylan’s parents arrived, looking flustered. They clearly knew what their daughter was capable of. “Future in-laws, please forgive us,” Dylan’s mother said, forcing a smile. “Chloe is still young. Don’t take her seriously.” My parents exchanged a look. What could they do? The other elders were here now. They swallowed their anger and invited the family of four to the table. The moment I sat down, I felt a pair of resentful eyes boring into me. “Move,” Chloe snapped. “Only I can sit next to my brother.” I gave her a sidelong glance and didn’t budge. “Bro, look at her! She’s already giving me attitude before she’s even married into the family!” Chloe whined. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You can sit on my lap,” Dylan said, patting his thighs as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Chloe shot me a triumphant smirk, then wrapped her arms around Dylan’s neck and settled onto his lap. My parents and I stared, dumbfounded. It didn’t end there. Chloe pointed at the plate of steamed shrimp. “Bro, I want shrimp.” Dylan immediately pulled the entire plate in front of him and began to meticulously peel them for her. Watching him pop the peeled shrimp directly into her mouth, a wave of revulsion washed over me. It was only then that I remembered her first phone call, asking him to find her lacy underwear, and the full weight of its strangeness hit me. “What a close relationship they have,” my mother said, her laugh strained. I let out a cold snort. “Yes, so close they could be husband and wife.” I turned to Dylan. “You know, maybe we should just have a blood-brother ceremony instead of a wedding. Watching you with your sister, I finally realize you treat me more like a buddy.” “No, Aria, that’s not it… Chloe, honey, get down for a minute.” Dylan finally sensed my anger. He reached for my hand, but Chloe slapped it away. “Don’t you touch her!” she shrieked, her face a mask of wounded betrayal. Dylan’s mother quickly came over and tried to coax her. “Sweetie, be good. Let your brother comfort your sister-in-law first. There will be plenty of time to comfort you later.” “No!” Chloe clung to Dylan even tighter, resting her head on his shoulder. “My brother promised he would love me the most, forever.” She looked up at him. “Bro, you’ll wash my underwear forever, blow-dry my hair forever, and peel my shrimp forever, right?” 3 Dylan stroked his sister’s hair, his voice dripping with affection. “Of course, I will. I’ll spoil you for the rest of your life.” Then he turned to me, his confidence baffling. “Aria, when you’re my wife, you’ll love my sister too, won’t you?” I was stunned into silence. Love… this girl who acted more like his mistress? My father, his face flushed with anger, slammed his chopsticks on the table. “I’ve lived for decades, and I have never seen a twenty-year-old woman sit on her brother’s lap like that.” “I don’t care how shameless your family is, but to demand my daughter marry into this madness? Never!” “He won’t even let Dylan touch her hand! What kind of marriage would that be? A lifetime of celibacy?” My father’s harsh words finally spurred Dylan’s father into action. He stood up to pull Chloe off Dylan’s lap. “No!” Chloe buried her face in Dylan’s chest and began to sob. “Bro, does getting married mean we have to be separated? It’s their dirty minds that see everything as dirty! Why are they blaming me?” Dylan hugged her protectively, then turned on me. “Aria, you promised me you’d be a good sister-in-law. How can you let your father talk to us like this?” Their performance was so absurd I couldn’t help but laugh. “My God, I had no idea your ‘cute little sister’ was such a shameless creature.” “Aria! What’s that supposed to mean? How could you say that about Chloe?” Dylan’s voice was sharp with anger. “Are you really going to make a scene in front of our parents over such a trivial thing?” I glanced at the four silent parents, their expressions a mixture of embarrassment and anger. They were only here for our sake. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself, and made one last attempt. “Dylan, it wasn’t easy for us to get to this point,” I said, my voice even. “If we’re serious about getting married, I need you to focus your heart on our family.” “If we didn’t have a house, I wouldn’t say a word. But we do. And I need your sister to stay out of our lives.” My cheeks flushed as I spoke. Thinking back on our three years together, a lump formed in my throat. “No.” His rejection was instant, without a moment’s thought. “Chloe and I are family for life. I won’t change for you.” “If you love me, you should love my family.” “If you don’t like Chloe, then there’s no point in discussing this further. Let’s take a few days to cool off. When you’ve thought it through, we can talk.” His decisiveness brought tears to my eyes. I had been so excited for this day, never imagining it would be the day we broke up. After a few moments of silence, I wiped my tears away, a cold smile forming on my lips. I stood up and opened the front door. “If there’s nothing to talk about, then take your family and get out of my house.” Dylan, seeing my resolve, started to argue. But my mother, her patience finally gone, roared, “Get out! And don’t you ever bother my daughter again!” As they left, they were still muttering indignantly. “What kind of person gets jealous of a man’s own sister?” My father started to go after them, but I stopped him. “Dad, don’t waste any more time on trash.” I thought that would be the end of it. But a few days later, Dylan and Chloe showed up at the high-end matchmaking agency where I worked. “Aria, I’ve found a way to solve our problem.” “Just give my sister the contact information for a few of your VVIP clients. Once she’s living in a mansion and driving a luxury car, she won’t need to cram in with us. Then everyone will be happy.”

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1 Seven years into my mission to win Andrew Hayes’s heart, I carried his child. He’d once vowed to love me for a lifetime. But three years into our marriage, he held our son, his face a mask of pure hatred. “Sweetheart,” he cooed, “how about we get you a new mommy?” A cruel smile spread across my son’s face. “Yes! I hate that woman.” My mission failed. A System I was bound to stripped me of all my feelings, and I vanished. But Andrew found me again, our son in tow, his face etched with desperation. “I was wrong. Please, Caroline, can you come back?” But I couldn’t. I was already married, building a life that had nothing to do with them. — “I hate you! I don’t want you to be my mom!” With a violent shove, a dish of sizzling food crashed, splattering scalding oil on me. My son, Leo, screamed at me, his eyes burning with his father’s hatred. A sharp pain shot up from my wrist. From the living room, Andrew’s voice cut through the air, cold and impatient. “Are you that useless? Can’t even hold a damn plate? It’s pathetic. Even your own son can’t stand you.” He didn’t even look up, a contemptuous smirk on his lips. He never asked if I was hurt. He never helped. He didn’t love me. I had always known that. Today was the final day. If I failed my mission, the System would take away my ability to feel. I trembled as I pushed myself up, only for Leo to shove me back down. “Stupid woman!” Hearing this, Andrew sauntered over, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Come on, son. We’re not eating this garbage. How about we go find Aunt Selena?” He scooped Leo into his arms, his gaze a flash of chilling indifference toward me. “Yes! Daddy, I love Aunt Selena!” Leo clapped. “Can Selena be my mommy?” A genuine smile broke through Andrew’s cold exterior. “We’ll see, kiddo.” He shot me a look of pure provocation. I forced my lips into a smile that felt more like a grimace. As I watched them walk away, my heart felt as if it were being stitched with a thousand searing needles. The housekeeper, Mrs. Davis, rushed to help me. I just shook my head. The front door clicked shut. In that silence, the System’s voice echoed in my mind. “Host mission failed. All emotional and sensory faculties will now be revoked.” It was a real goodbye. Time to let go. I set a silent alarm on my phone, a secret countdown to my departure. Seven days… I started cleaning the greasy floor, my mind flashing back to when he’d fired the staff. “Only pathetic housewives ask so many questions,” he’d sneered. “You want to be a housewife? Fine. Do the work of one.” He never cared. But it didn’t matter anymore. Soon, I would be gone. I walked to the bay window, watching the rain. My fingers found our family portrait—Leo frowning, Andrew looking down, only me smiling like a fool. A family that hated being a family. Useless. I tore it to pieces and tossed it in the trash. Just then, a black Maybach pulled up. Andrew stepped out, his face handsome and sharp. From his good mood, I knew who would be next. A moment later, a woman with glamorous curls and a stunning black dress emerged. 2 It was Selena. The new mother my son longed for. The woman Andrew had always loved. She held Leo’s hand, his eyes shining with a light I’d never seen. He adored her. Just like his father, he’d stare at her picture for hours. With me, it was always the same refrain: “Just go away! No wonder Dad doesn’t love you.” I looked away. A quiet thought—how happy they look—drifted through my mind, carrying no sting. I knew with liberating clarity: I didn’t love Andrew anymore. And I no longer loved my son. Selena swept in, her eyes meeting mine with the cool confidence of a victor. This was the first time he’d brought a lover into our home. She probably saw it as a final triumph. But she wasn’t my rival anymore. I moved like a hostess, washing fruit and placing it on the coffee table. “Please, help yourself.” Selena’s eyes narrowed. In the past, this would’ve been my cue to run and cry. My composure was suspicious. Andrew grabbed my arm, his voice a low growl. “You’re washing fruit for her? Caroline, are you insane?” So this was love. He thought the fruit I touched was tainted. I looked into his cold eyes and saw a universe with no star for me. “If you don’t like it,” I said evenly, “I can take it away.” His jaw clenched. “Don’t you dare regret this.” His voice dripped with malice. “You like washing fruit so much? Fine. Wash every single piece of fruit in this house. You’re not sleeping until it’s done.” I nodded. “Okay.” I washed the fruit over and over. “Selena can’t eat things too cold,” he’d snap. “Or too hot.” I just nodded. Somehow, I still angered him. He hurled a bowl against the wall, stormed over, and grabbed me by the neck. “Caroline, are you done with this act? Don’t think this little show is getting my attention.” But I wasn’t acting. I no longer loved him. “The fruit… I washed it very carefully,” I blinked up at him. “Don’t you regret this,” he hissed. He let me go and pulled Selena into a devouring kiss, a performance meant to break me. I placed a hand over my chest. The familiar ache was gone. Even when Leo cheered, “Yay! Aunt Selena is going to be my new mommy!” I felt nothing. I had truly let go. A small smile touched my lips. I felt like I was watching the end of a movie. “Congratulations,” I said calmly. Congratulations to them. And to me. 3 Selena stayed the night. Andrew told me if I got on my knees and begged, he’d make her leave. I didn’t. I just shook my head and walked to my room. “Caroline, you said it was fine,” he called after me. “Don’t you dare regret this.” I won’t, I thought. I don’t know how much time passed before the sounds started from the room next door—soft moans, gasps, the rhythm of intimacy. I put in my earbuds. Two more days until I’m free. I was up before dawn, pulling out my things. After all these years, a single suitcase was only half full. Leo ran in. “Why are you packing? Don’t think you can threaten Dad by leaving. He’ll never love you!” Andrew appeared behind him, his face a mask of disdain. “Even a child can see through your little tricks, Caroline. Why keep up the act?” For years, his favorite line was, “Stop pretending.” He hated that I had, in his mind, trapped him into marriage. But it wasn’t me who wanted this. The truth didn’t matter now. This time, I wasn’t pretending. He led Selena out, laughing. As she passed, Selena whispered, “You should know when it’s time to leave.” Her face was alight with triumph. I nodded. It was time to go. Back in my room, I took our wedding photo from the wall and smashed the glass. He’d always hated it. It wasn’t until I saw the photo of him, Selena, and Leo on his nightstand that I understood. He didn’t hate the photo. He just hated me. One by one, I burned everything that reminded me of him—the photo, the journal filled with the love I once felt. Mrs. Davis rushed in, alarmed. “Ma’am, what are you doing? You’ll regret this!” I smiled and shook my head. “They were old. Time for something new.” I would never regret this. 4 By nightfall, only one thing remained to be packed: the divorce papers. Andrew’s mother called. “Caroline, our family has wronged you. If you want to leave, we won’t stop you. If it wasn’t for you back then… Andrew wouldn’t be alive today.” I managed a hollow laugh. “Mrs. Hayes, let’s just let the past be the past.” If not for that incident, I never would have stayed so long. “Consider the kidney a debt repaid.” She had a large sum of money transferred to my account. I stared at the numbers. My youth had been bought and paid for. Andrew didn’t come home for days. I didn’t call. My phone buzzed. It was a photo from Selena in a hotel room, Andrew likely in the shower nearby. I replied to her: Don’t worry. I’ll be leaving soon. You can have your happy ending. Minutes later, Andrew called, his voice edged with panic. “Are you crazy? Why do you always have to play the saint?” I ended the call. The front door burst open. Andrew stood there, pale and panting. He lunged. “You’re alive, so why didn’t you answer your damn phone?” He grabbed my chin. “I… I didn’t want to bother you…” I stammered. “Bother me?” he spat. “Right, the silent treatment. God, Caroline, you’re such a good actress.” He slammed me against the kitchen door, then threw me onto the sofa. The impact nearly knocked the wind out of me. He pinned me down, his mouth crashing onto mine in a punishing assault. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he hissed, his voice raw. “Fine. I’ll give it to you.” Fear coiled in my stomach. I whimpered his name. He just laughed coldly. His phone rang—a jarring intrusion. He swiped it away without looking. “Still playing the innocent virgin, are you?” I endured the pain and humiliation. I was a puppet in his angry hands, my tears swallowed by the silent night. An overwhelming shame washed over me. So this is what he thought of me. Of course. He had always looked down on me. 5 When I woke up, the sun was high. He was stepping out of the bathroom, a towel on his hips, his upper body bare. The sunlight caught the lines of his sculpted muscles. For a second, I was transported back to the early days of our love. A sharp pain brought me back to reality. “Still not done with the act?” he sneered, tossing a bottle of painkillers onto the bed. “I’m leaving. Don’t call me.” I knew Selena had been calling last night. Twenty missed calls. I struggled to stand and stumbled. For a moment, I thought I saw him reach out to steady me. But his hand never touched me. Instead, he casually plucked his belt from the sofa. “Is that all you’ve got?” My clothes were scattered everywhere. His were neatly folded on a chair. I didn’t speak, just slowly picked up my clothes and clumsily pulled them on. He paused at the door. “What are you doing with that suitcase?” There was a flicker of something in his eyes—alarm?—but it vanished. He couldn’t care if I left. “Nothing,” I said. “Just old junk I’m throwing out.” He seemed to relax. “If you’d been this obedient from the start, I might have been nicer to you.” The door slammed shut. Don’t worry, Andrew, I thought. I’ll be quiet soon. So quiet I’ll disappear from your life, just like you’ve always wanted. The day of my departure crept closer. I had to visit the Hayes estate one last time to hand over Leo’s school documents. I took a taxi to the South Hills Manor estates.

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My sister weighed three hundred pounds, and after she lost the weight, she weighed five pounds, box and all. My three-hundred-pound sister found a weight-loss camp online. They guaranteed they could turn her into a goddess in one month. I discovered the camp was an unlicensed, fly-by-night operation. After I pleaded with her, my sister finally gave up the idea. A month later, all the girls who went to the camp had transformed into slender beauties. The camp announced it was closing its doors. My sister had a complete breakdown. She blamed me for sabotaging her journey to beauty. She soaked all my clothes in industrial-grade pesticide. I died of multiple organ failure. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my sister wanted to go to the weight-loss camp. 1. I opened my eyes to see my sister, Naomie, sprawled on the couch. She had a chicken leg in one hand and was scrolling through her phone with the other. The rolls of fat on her stomach jiggled with every laugh. “Mom! Mom! Come look, there’s a fitness boot camp here!” she shrieked. “They guarantee they can make me gorgeous in just one month!” My mom emerged from the kitchen with a plate of cupcakes and set them in front of Naomie. “Oh, sweetie, you’re not even fat. Why would you want to put yourself through all that trouble?” Naomie’s face fell. She started yelling at my mom, screaming that she didn’t understand anything, that all she ever did was cook for her, which was why she’d ended up like this. She wailed that because of her weight, the guy she had a crush on had been stolen from her. The camp cost ten thousand dollars for a one-month program. They only accepted women over two hundred pounds and offered a full refund if they didn’t lose weight. Naomie wrapped her arms around my mom, whining and pleading. She argued that even if she didn’t lose weight, there was no financial risk. My mom hesitated, then looked at me. “Raina, what do you think?” I snapped back to reality. In my previous life, my mom had asked me the same question. I’d grabbed my phone and looked up the boot camp Naomie had found. It was a brand-new company with no credentials, no online presence to speak of. Their announcement stated it was a one-time, one-month program. After that, they would suspend operations indefinitely. I knew immediately it was a scam. A classic cash-grab. How could they guarantee someone over two hundred pounds would get thin in a month? Naomie was pushing three hundred. She could barely walk a few steps without needing to rest. I told my mom all of this, urging them not to choose this company. If Naomie really wanted to lose weight, I would find her a legitimate, reputable program. They had reluctantly agreed. I found a top-rated camp for her, but Naomie lasted less than two weeks before complaining about how tired she was and coming home. A month later, the first camp released a video. The girls who had signed up, all over two hundred pounds, had been transformed into stunning beauties. They glowed with health, their cheeks rosy and full of life. The camp simultaneously announced the success of their program and that they were closing their doors, with no date set for reopening. My sister went ballistic. Her hatred for me became absolute. She was convinced I was the sole reason she’d missed her chance. One day, while I was out, she bought a bottle of industrial pesticide and soaked all of my clothes in it. I died in agony from multiple organ failure. And my parents, to protect Naomie, told everyone I had mistaken the pesticide for laundry detergent. They wept, clutching a photo of me at my funeral. “Raina, honey, we’ve already lost you. We can’t lose Naomie too.” “A big sister should always forgive her little sister. She knows she was wrong now. You’d forgive her, right?” “Besides, you can’t blame her entirely. If you had just let her go to that camp in the first place, none of this would have happened.” I pushed the thoughts away, hiding the hatred in my eyes behind a smile. “Naomie wants to lose weight,” I said brightly. “That’s a great thing.” 2. My mom blinked, then asked again, “Raina, you don’t think there’s anything wrong with this boot camp?” I tilted my head, feigning curiosity. “Mom, do you think there’s something wrong with it?” She wiped her hands on her apron and stood up with a smile. “What do I know about these things? You’re the one who went to college. You must know better than me.” The moment the words left her mouth, her face changed. She wrung her apron anxiously. Naomie’s face crumpled, the fat on her body quivering with rage. “Mom! What is that supposed to mean?! You’re looking down on me, aren’t you?! What’s so great about going to college?” “So she’s the college expert, and I don’t know anything, is that it?!” Two fat tears squeezed out of her tiny, puffy eyes. Sobbing, Naomie struggled off the couch and stormed into her room. The floorboards shook with each step. “College” was a forbidden word in our house. Ever since her crush was “stolen,” Naomie had lost all interest in school. She failed her college entrance exams and refused to retake them. Now, she just lay around at home, waiting for my mom to feed her. Naomie believed that if she were thin, there was nothing she couldn’t do. She was convinced that even Ivy League schools would be begging for her to attend. My mom shot me a disapproving look and clicked her tongue. “Why did you have to provoke your sister? She’s already so insecure, and you say something like that?” “And there’s no need for that boot camp anyway,” she continued. “You know how she is. She’ll be back in two or three days.” “You can tell her that at dinner.” She wiped her hands and went back to the kitchen. I watched her go, a cold smile on my face. My mom was always like this. She was afraid of Naomie’s anger, so she always pushed me to be the messenger, the one to break the bad news. The moment Naomie got upset, my mom would swoop in to play the peacemaker, throwing all the blame onto me. That’s why Naomie had always hated me. She was convinced I was deliberately trying to sabotage her. At lunch, Naomie brought up the boot camp again. “Mom, Dad, the deadline to sign up is the day after tomorrow!” she whined. “Hurry up and give me the money! Don’t you want me to get thin?!” My dad kept his head down, silent. My mom was frantically winking and making faces at me. I shoveled a few mouthfuls of rice into my mouth. “Mom, is there something wrong with your eye?” Before my mom could scold me, Naomie’s glare shot toward me like a dagger. My mom carefully chose her words. “Don’t rush, sweetie. We’ll have your sister look up the camp online later.” “It’s not that I don’t want to spend the money, it’s just… I trust your sister’s judgment more.” I quickly refused. “Mom, I don’t know anything about this stuff. If Naomie wants to go, just let her. It could be fun, right, Naomie?” 3. After lunch, my mom dragged me into my room. She demanded to know what I was playing at. I was about to ignore her, but then I saw a fleshy bulge in the crack of the doorway. Naomie was hiding, listening. “What’s wrong, Mom? If you don’t want Naomie to go, you can tell her yourself,” I said innocently. “I think it’s great that she’s motivated. Even if it’s just for fun, what’s the harm? They’ll refund the money anyway.” “So why won’t you let her go?” My mom’s temper flared. She slammed her hand on the table. “Don’t you get it? What kind of willpower does your sister have? Ten thousand dollars for a month, down the drain!” “Fun? A thousand, maybe. But ten thousand?! Are you going to pay for it?!” I pretended to hesitate. “If I had the money, I’d help her out. But I just started working, where am I going to get ten thousand dollars?” Bang. Naomie threw the door open, standing in the doorway, panting for breath. Her eyes were bloodshot, her teeth clenched. “So that’s it! You just don’t want to spend the money! You don’t want me to go!” “I’m so fat now, I might as well just die! I’ll go kill myself! Then you can save your precious money!” she howled, then thundered out of the apartment. My mom shot me a look of pure hatred. “Look what you’ve done.” “Naomie, sweetie, let me explain!” Naomie ran downstairs and collapsed onto the community lawn, wailing. Snot and tears smeared all over her clothes. This was her usual tactic. Whenever she didn’t get her way, she’d go downstairs and cry to the neighborhood gossips. And just like that, every busybody in the complex knew my mom was too cheap to spend ten thousand dollars on her daughter’s weight loss. I bought a soda and watched the show from a distance, thoroughly entertained. The neighborhood ladies surrounded my mom, clucking their tongues and lecturing her. “You really need to pay more attention to your child’s health. Look at little Naomie, she’s so big.” “It’s ten thousand now. If she needs surgery later, who knows how much it’ll cost.” “Exactly. And how is she supposed to find a boyfriend like this? It’s not like you’re short on money. Just let the girl have some fun.” At the mention of not finding a boyfriend, Naomie’s wails grew even louder. “My mom just doesn’t want me to get married! If I were thin, I could have any man I want!” The rolls of fat on her body shook with each sob. It was a ridiculous sight. My mom’s face cycled through shades of red and green. She tried to explain, but she was no match for the gossips. She was thoroughly shamed. She wanted to drag Naomie home to talk, but Naomie refused to move. Defeated, my mom had to give in. Right there, in front of everyone, she transferred the deposit through the website. Only then did Naomie wipe her tears and follow her home. My mom slammed her bedroom door and didn’t come out. Naomie couldn’t have cared less. She was happily browsing online for pretty dresses, already planning where she would go on a date with her dream guy in a month. 4. The next day, the boot camp called and said they needed to register in person. My mom took Naomie first thing in the morning. And she made me come along, to “see if there was anything fishy.” I had to laugh. Even if there was, I wouldn’t say a word. I had no intention of dying a slow, agonizing death in a hospital bed again. That kind of pain was seared into my brain, unforgettable. At the entrance to the camp, we were greeted by several muscular, handsome men. Naomie’s eyes were glued to them. She practically dragged my mom forward, sweating profusely after just a few steps. The director saw Naomie’s size and his eyes lit up. He rushed over as if he’d found a treasure. “This must be your daughter! Come, come, fill out the registration form.” I glanced at the form. It asked for the basics—name, age, ID number—but also for blood type and even date and time of birth. My mom looked confused. Why would a weight-loss camp need all that? The director explained it was part of their new, high-tech approach. Every program was custom-tailored. My mom looked at me. “Raina, you went to college. What do you think?” I shrugged. “I have no idea. Why don’t you call someone and ask?” Naomie was getting antsy. She scribbled down the information on the form. “Mom!” she yelled. “You promised! You can’t go back on your word!” There was also a confidentiality agreement and a refund policy. A full refund was guaranteed if she didn’t lose at least one hundred pounds in a month. Naomie didn’t even read it before signing her name. The director showered Naomie with compliments. He said her features were exquisite, her proportions perfect, her legs long. She would be a true beauty once she lost the weight. He didn’t stop there. He even took a jab at me. “This is your sister, right? I’m a brutally honest person, so please don’t be offended.” “Once you lose the weight, you’ll be much more beautiful than your sister.” “You’ll be the campus queen! Even A-list celebrities won’t compare. Men will be lining up, willing to pay a fortune just to meet you.” Naomie was floating on cloud nine. She shot me a triumphant, smug look. After all that flattery, there was no way my mom was going to make that phone call. Naomie cornered her, demanding she pay the full fee right then and there, threatening to jump off the building if she didn’t. After the payment was made, the director told her to pick a trainer. It turned out the handsome men at the door were all trainers. Naomie was spoiled for choice. She pouted and batted her eyelashes at the director. “It’s so hard to choose! I can’t decide. Can I have two?” The director’s smile twitched, but he was a professional. His expression remained perfectly composed. He made an “exception” and let Naomie have two trainers. As we were leaving, I deliberately lingered for a moment. I noticed the director was saying the exact same thing to every single person who signed up. 5. My mom was so angry when we got home that she refused to eat lunch. Naomie, of course, didn’t care. She hummed a tune as she packed her things. They were moving into the camp for a month. That afternoon, my mom was still fuming and sent me to take Naomie to the camp. When we got there, a few of the trainers started taking Naomie’s measurements. The director pulled me aside, going on and on about how great their program was. I was bored until I saw some live-streaming equipment inside. “What’s this?” The director gave me a mysterious smile and just told me to follow their social media account. He said their training would start tonight. When I got home that evening, my mom was looking at a picture of Naomie and wiping away tears. “My sweet Naomie is so pampered. Will she be able to manage without us? Will she miss her mommy?” I rolled my eyes. “If you miss her so much, why don’t you just go live with her at the camp?” Her eyes lit up, and she actually pulled out her phone. The call was answered by a stream of curses from Naomie. I went back to my room and opened the social media app. The account was already live. Naomie and the other girls were lined up. Above their heads were gift icons. A caption explained that whoever got the most votes would get to start their weight-loss journey first. The stream didn’t have many viewers, but there was a steady flow of votes. Naomie was the biggest, so she had the most votes. When the voting ended, Naomie was the winner. She started her live-streamed workout. I watched for a bit. It was no different from any other fitness stream. Just dancing and exercise. After only five minutes, Naomie was drenched in sweat, panting heavily. She cried out that she needed a break. They were surprisingly humane. They let Naomie rest and brought another girl up to do aerobics. I wondered, how could anyone lose two hundred pounds in a month like this? It was just a normal workout. It was impossible. Five minutes later, Naomie was back on camera. She didn’t say a word. She just diligently danced for half an hour. Even when she was dripping with sweat and so tired she could barely lift her arms, she didn’t ask for a break. This wasn’t Naomie’s style. Maybe they had threatened her, or promised her some incredible reward. But what did that have to do with me? She had brought this on herself. I watched the stream for two days but didn’t see anything else out of the ordinary. It was boring. There was one strange thing, though. The viewers who were sending gifts seemed to be the same few people every time. A week later, I opened the stream again. My eyes widened in disbelief. Was that really my three-hundred-pound sister? She had lost eighty pounds!

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1 In my past life, when I got into Yale, my grandfather gave me a priceless locket engraved with our family crest, a piece worth millions. I never once dared to wear it. But the scholarship student my family sponsored stole it from me. When I confronted her, she stared at me with wide, innocent eyes. “Was it really that expensive? It looked like a cheap trinket from the dollar store. You never even wore it, so I just gave it to a homeless man on the street.” I was furious and threatened to call the police, but I was stopped. Dorien, my childhood best friend who had sworn to protect me forever, called me a spoiled brat for bullying someone less fortunate. My own brother, who had always doted on me, said my arrogance and selfishness made me unworthy of being his sister. To appease the scholarship girl, they forced me into a car and sent me deep into the rural backwoods to “experience poverty.” There, her grandmother tried to break me, to marry me off to her slovenly, cruel grandson. When I fought back with everything I had, she fed me a bowl of soup laced with rat poison. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day she stole my locket. “I’m so sorry, Avery. I had no idea your locket was so valuable. I really thought it was just a costume piece from the dollar store, so I gave it to a homeless man I saw on the street.” The sound of that voice, so familiar it made me sick to my stomach, hit me like a physical blow. I stared at her, my eyes wide with the horrifying realization. I had been reborn. The girl in front of me, looking so fragile and small, was Sarah, the student my mother had sponsored for years. Right now, she was nestled pitifully in Dorien’s arms, her voice trembling with manufactured distress. “What do I do, Dorien? Avery is so upset with me. It’s all my fault, I’m so sorry…” she sobbed. Dorien’s face softened with adoration. He hugged her tighter. “It’s okay, Sarah. It’s not a big deal. It was just a locket. What’s given is given.” A cold laugh escaped my lips. A family heirloom worth millions. Was it really theirs to just give away? Hearing me, Dorien’s face hardened, and he pointed an accusatory finger at me. “Avery, what’s so funny? Why can’t you be more like Sarah, so kind and generous? You just kept that locket locked away in your room like a decoration. It’s better off being given to someone who needs a little joy!” I remembered my last life. I had argued, pleaded, explained that it was a birthday gift from my grandfather. But Dorien hadn’t helped me. He had sided with Sarah, berating me for my selfishness. “Dorien, what right do you have to take my things? And taking without asking is stealing! I could have you both arrested!” I shot back, the words tasting like ash. Hearing the word “arrested,” Sarah panicked, clinging to Dorien and bursting into a fresh storm of tears. “I’m so, so sorry! I really didn’t know it was worth so much! I just saw that poor man, and he looked so miserable. I thought… I thought giving him a gift might cheer him up, you know? I was just trying to help someone. Why is Avery so angry with me for trying to do a good deed, Dorien?” Her words ignited Dorien’s righteous indignation. He turned on me, his voice sharp with condemnation. “Avery, don’t you dare go too far! Sarah was being charitable, and you’re attacking her for it! Besides, if it was so precious, why didn’t you keep it locked up in a safe? When you think about it, this is really your fault!” I was speechless. Even if I hadn’t kept it in a bank vault, was that an excuse for her to steal it? I remembered how, in my last life, I had run to my brother, Miles, hoping for support. But he hadn’t helped me either. He had defended Sarah. “Avery, I’ve spoiled you rotten. How did you become so petty and materialistic? Why can’t you be more like Sarah and give me some peace of mind?” Later, when I refused to apologize, my brother had personally driven me to Sarah’s family home. “You need to have your attitude adjusted,” he’d said coldly. “Go see what Sarah’s life was like. Maybe then you’ll develop some empathy.” And just like that, I was abandoned in the middle of nowhere. Sarah’s family included a grandmother who was clearly unhinged. Surrounded by dense forest and mountains, there was no escape. I was forced to do back-breaking farm work from dawn till dusk and endure the grandmother’s constant abuse. Finally, she put rat poison in my food and killed me. After my death, my murderer was never caught. Instead, my brother officially adopted Sarah as his god-sister. He moved her entire family into the city. They took my place, living a life of luxury that should have been mine. 2. Knowing my brother would be no help, I called my mother. But when she heard the story, she just sighed and chided me for being immature. “Avery, what have I taught you? Don’t use your status to bully people. I know Sarah. She’s a kind, considerate girl. She would never do something like that.” She paused, her disappointment palpable even over the phone. “I wish you were as sensible as your brother.” I stood there, phone in hand, stunned by her response. She was siding with a stranger over her own daughter. I hung up, my hands shaking with rage, and immediately dialed my grandfather. When he heard what had happened, his voice boomed with fury. “And I thought he was a decent young man! I was even considering him for you! How dare he treat you this way!” His tone softened. “Avery, I’m sending the car for you right now. You’ll come and stay with me for a while. And don’t you worry, this business with the locket is far from over.” Hearing his voice, a sense of calm finally settled over me. The butler arrived quickly. But no sooner had I stepped into my grandfather’s house than my brother, Miles, showed up. “Avery, is this how I raised you? What kind of person picks on those weaker than them? I’ve spoiled you, that’s the problem. It just so happens that Sarah’s family is in the middle of their harvest season. I’m sending you to her home in a couple of days. It’s time you learned how hard life can be!” Hearing the exact same words from my past life, I blinked slowly. “It’s not that I don’t want to go, Miles,” I said sweetly. “It’s just that Grandpa missed me. My hands are tied.” My brother’s face contorted with anger. “Avery, how can you be so selfish! Sarah has so little, yet she works so hard. Why are you so lazy?” “She looks up to you as a sister! What’s wrong with helping her out a little?” I snorted internally. Sister? I didn’t have a sister. Sarah’s parents had four daughters before finally having a son. Her family was pathologically obsessed with having a male heir. Her three older sisters had been married off for a bride price the moment they graduated high school to support their younger brother. Sarah was latching onto my family to avoid the same fate. Her plan was to get my brother to send me to her home, where she hoped I would be forced to marry her brother. In my past life, my refusal to do so was what led to my murder. I looked at my brother with cold eyes and stepped behind my grandfather, who had just come downstairs. “Miles, if you have something to say, you can say it to Grandpa.” My brother feared my grandfather more than anyone. At my words, he shot me a glare but fell silent. I went upstairs and watched from the balcony as Dorien and Sarah waited below. Dorien was comforting her, and in a moment of passion, he pulled her into a hug, promising he would always have her back. Sarah, crying prettily in his arms, whimpered, “Dorien, what if Avery is so angry she stops sponsoring my education? I just want to go to school… maybe I should get on my knees and beg for her forgiveness?” Dorien’s face darkened. “Kneel for what? Don’t worry. Not only am I going to teach her a lesson, I’m going to make her give you her spot on the university’s new research project.” The research project Dorien mentioned was a prestigious fellowship I had just been accepted into. It was a huge opportunity, something that would be a cornerstone of my resume. Sarah wanted in on it, too. Hearing Dorien’s promise, her face lit up. “Really, Dorien? Oh, I love you so much.” She stood on her toes and kissed him. I raised my phone and took a picture. Flushed from the kiss, Dorien immediately called me. “Avery, I’m willing to overlook how you’ve been bullying Sarah. Give her your spot on the research team, and I’ll forgive you. Otherwise, I never want to see you again. Got it?” I don’t know if I got it. I just knew he sounded like a complete and utter idiot. So, I followed my heart and told him so. “Fine!” he sputtered, so angry I thought he’d smash his phone. “You just wait!” 3. The next day was the university’s annual autumn gala. It was a major event, and all the school’s top administrators and donors were in attendance. Halfway through the program, Dorien pulled Sarah onto the stage. He held the teary-eyed, trembling Sarah protectively in his arms and spoke into the microphone. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’m here tonight because I have to expose a disgusting truth.” “Avery Thorne, a senior in the pre-med program, is not who she seems. She has a history of academic dishonesty, forcing my friend, Sarah, to help her cheat on multiple major exams. The spot she secured on the new research fellowship was also obtained through fraudulent means. I hope she will do the right thing and return this opportunity to the person who truly deserves it.” After his speech, Sarah began to sob. “I’m so sorry, everyone. I didn’t want to cover for a cheater, but Avery threatened me. She said if I didn’t help her, her family would cut off my scholarship. I just want to finish my education.” “It took all my courage to stand up here tonight… I’m so, so sorry.” Her words sent a shockwave through the audience. Murmurs erupted from the crowd. “No way. I’m in her class. I always thought she was so hardworking. I can’t believe she’s that kind of person.” “That’s disgusting. Cheating your way into a research fellowship?” “Someone like that has no right to be on the team.” “Hold on, let’s not jump to conclusions. What if it’s not true?” “How could it not be true? Look at how heartbroken Sarah is!” “Wait, wasn’t Dorien best friends with Avery? For him to turn on her like this… wow, rich people drama.” Opinions were flying, but a significant portion of the crowd remained skeptical. But then, my brother, Miles, suddenly appeared on stage. “I’m Avery’s older brother,” he announced, his voice heavy with disappointment. “Our father passed away when we were young, and I’m afraid I’ve failed in raising her properly. I want to apologize to all of you for the mistakes my sister has made. Rest assured, she will be returning the spot on the research team to its rightful owner.” The moment my brother finished speaking, the auditorium exploded.

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Three in the morning, and I was shivering in a police station. The officer across from me tapped his pen on the desk. “You’re a college student. So tell me again why you believe a food truck’s secret sauce is being made with… fluid from a corpse?” I stared at the cold steel of the handcuffs, catching the lingering scent of decay trapped under my fingernails. It was, without a doubt, the smell of death. The smell a human body weeps after it’s gone. 1 My family ran the oldest funeral home in the state since 1892. Grandfather used to say corpses develop two extra mouths—one for decay to enter, one for stench to escape. I grew up in the quiet halls of a funeral home, a childhood scented with formaldehyde and decomposing tissue. I’ve seen more of the dead than I have of the living. I grew up Even my last medical report noted it: Olfactory sensitivity, preternaturally acute. So, when my roommate, Lucy, shoved a carton of loaded fries under my nose, drenched in their famous, pungent sauce, I threw up on the spot. “Seriously, Mia?” she said, stabbing a sauce-laden fry and popping it into her mouth with a look of pure bliss. “This is from that viral spot in the food truck alley by campus. I waited two hours for this.” I wiped my mouth, silent. The smell was indescribable. It was like rotting fish gills scraped with a rusty scalpel. Identical to the drowning victim I’d prepared just last month. 2 To figure this out, I went with Lucy to the fries truck. A long line snaked from the front of the truck. I muttered, “Is it really that good?” Lucy was unfazed. “Told you. It’s an internet sensation.” Well, I was already here. I trudged to the back of the line, resigning myself to the wait. The owner worked fast, though, and we were at the front in just over an hour. As we got closer, the putrid smell of the sauce hit me like a wave. My stomach clenched, and a sour taste rose in my throat. Lucy, oblivious, grabbed my arm excitedly. “You have to try it this time.” I didn’t refuse, just gave a weak nod. 3 Fighting back my nausea, I studied the stall. It was a small, grimy food truck, its metal siding dented and dull. The owner was a middle-aged man with a perpetually simple, honest-looking smile. He worked with an expert rhythm, scooping golden fries into cartons and ladling on the thick, dark sauce, his movements almost unnaturally efficient. I decided to probe. “Hey, what’s in this sauce? It’s so… pungent.” The owner didn’t even look up, his hands a blur of mechanical motion. “Family secret. Passed down through generations.” I watched his face, trying to read something, anything, in his expression. But he kept his head down, busily adding toppings over the sauce. 4 “Business is booming,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Ever think about hiring some help?” A place this popular could easily afford another pair of hands. This time, he glanced up at me. “I manage just fine on my own. Can’t afford to hire anyone.” Lucy chimed in. “What about your wife? Or kids? Can’t they lend a hand?” The owner’s smile tightened slightly as he handed Lucy her order. “Here you go. Next!” The conversation was over. The person behind us was getting restless. “Hey, if you’re done, move it.” Lucy mumbled an apology over her shoulder and pulled me away by my sleeve. 5 We found an empty bench nearby. Lucy eagerly held a fry, dripping with sauce, to my lips. “Go on, try it. It’s best when it’s hot.” I grimaced but leaned in, taking a careful sniff. That familiar, unidentifiable stench instantly flooded my senses. This was absolutely not a normal food smell. Fermented or aged sauces could be pungent, yes, but they smelled of yeast, chili, or soy—of things that were meant to be eaten. But this… this was tainted with a faint but undeniable metallic foulness. It was closer to what I smelled at work every day. The smell of a corpse. 6 I instinctively covered my nose. “Don’t eat that,” I said, my voice sharp. Lucy just laughed, completely missing my tone. “Smells strong, tastes amazing. That’s the whole point.” “You and your super-sniffer nose,” she teased. “You just can’t handle intense flavors.” “No,” I said, pulling her closer. “It doesn’t smell strong. It smells like a corpse.” “Like crap?!” Lucy exclaimed, a little too loudly. Her voice, while not a shout, turned the heads of the people at the next table. The owner, who happened to be clearing a nearby trash can, shot us a cold, irritated look. “Watch your mouth, young lady.” Lucy, realizing what she’d said, clapped a hand over her mouth, her wide eyes pleading with me for help. I gave her a subtle shake of my head and whispered, “Let’s go. Back to the dorm. Now.” 7 I dragged Lucy away, grabbing the two half-eaten cartons as we left. She clung to my arm, her voice a nervous whisper. “You were serious, weren’t you? About the… you know.” Lucy knew my sense of smell was no joke. The possibility that she’d been eating something so vile was starting to sink in, and she was terrified. “We’ll talk in the dorm,” I said, my voice low. It wasn’t the place for this conversation. Even after we passed through the campus gates, I could feel a pair of hot, angry eyes burning into my back. Back in our room, Lucy opened one of the cartons and started eating again. “What are you doing?” I demanded, exasperated. “How can you still eat that?” Most people, upon hearing the word “corpse,” would have thrown the food into the nearest biohazard bin. 8 Lucy shrugged, her nonchalance forced. “I thought about it. A little dirt never hurt anyone, right? So what if it smells like crap?” “Besides,” she added, stabbing another fry, “look how many people eat it. It’s not just me.” She popped it into her mouth, the dark sauce smearing the corner of her lips. I recoiled, putting more distance between us. “Did you mishear me?” I asked. She chewed thoughtfully. “Didn’t you say it smelled like crap?” I pressed my lips together, fighting for patience. “I said it smells like a corpse.” Lucy’s chewing stopped. The food was stuck in her mouth, unable to be swallowed, unwilling to be spit out. She thought for a moment, her words muffled. “Which word did you say?” I answered calmly. “The kind with a ‘p’.” 9 This time, she lost it. She scrambled for the trash can and retched violently. “Mia, are you serious? Or are you just messing with me?” I looked at her with pity and shook my head. “I wish I were, Lucy. But it’s true.” Her face went ashen. She stuck two fingers down her throat, trying to force out every last trace. When she was finally done, her stomach empty, she looked up at me, her eyes red and tear-filled. “How… how can you be so sure?” she asked weakly. I had never told anyone that my family worked with the dead. It’s a taboo subject for most people. After a moment of silence, I decided to tell her a modified truth. “I have relatives who work at a morgue. The smell is exactly the same as the one in the holding rooms.” Her face twisted in a mask of agony. Whether she fully believed me or not, the seed of doubt was enough. “Oh god,” she wailed. “What about all the times I ate it before?” I patted her shoulder, offering what little comfort I could. “Don’t worry. All that is long gone, flushed down the sewer.” 10 Even though I was certain something was deeply wrong with that truck, I had no actual proof to report. The business continued to be a massive hit. Then, one day, as I was walking past the food truck alley, I saw a familiar figure in the line. At first, I didn’t believe it. But when she turned, I saw her face clearly. “Lucy?” She jumped, spinning around to face me, her mouth smeared with the dark, distinctive sauce. She looked down at the carton in her hand, then back at me, a deer caught in the headlights. “Mia,” she stammered. “What are you doing here?” A hot surge of anger went through me. I strode over, snatched the carton from her hands, tossed it into a nearby trash can, and dragged her back to the dorm. “You promised you’d never eat that stuff again!” 11 Lucy’s eyes welled up with tears. “I’m sorry, Mia, but I can’t help it. Nothing else tastes right anymore.” Tears streamed down her face, and her expression was one of genuine despair, not just guilt. I’d heard stories of certain substances being addictive. Could this sauce have a similar effect? This was bad. I looked at her, my voice firm but concerned. “Okay. From now on, I’m watching you. You are absolutely forbidden from going near that place again.” Lucy knew I was trying to help, so she reluctantly agreed. But after that, her appetite plummeted. She started losing weight at an alarming rate, and it was the unhealthy kind of thin. Her skin was sallow, with dark, bruised-looking circles under her eyes, and her lips were perpetually pale. She walked like she was wading through water, utterly drained of energy. 12 Finally, after two weeks of this, Lucy broke. “Please, Mia,” she sobbed, clutching my arm. “Just let me have some. Just one bite.” I turned away, unable to look at her. “No.” Her state was a clear sign of addiction, and this was the withdrawal period. If she could just push through it, she could beat it. Giving in now would mean starting all over again. I gently patted her back. “Just hold on a little longer, Lucy,” I said softly. “It’ll get better soon.” Lucy knew I wouldn’t budge. She gave a weak, defeated nod, too exhausted to argue anymore. 13 A month later, it all fell apart. It was 8:50 AM, and Lucy hadn’t gotten out of bed. We had a major lecture in ten minutes. I knocked on the frame of her bunk bed. “Lucy? You still not up?” She was on the top bunk, so I couldn’t see her clearly. I stood on my toes, but all I could make out was the back of her head. She was curled into a tight ball, completely unresponsive. This was strange. Today was a core class for her major; she never missed it. Was she sick? A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. I scrambled up the ladder. 14 I gently shook her shoulder. Her brow was furrowed, her cheeks flushed an unnatural, feverish red, and her breath came out in hot puffs. Oh no, I thought. She’s burning up. I decided to get her to the campus clinic and pulled back her duvet. The moment the blanket came off, I gasped. Lucy’s neck and arms were covered in angry, pus-filled sores. They looked like they were about to burst. I didn’t dare touch her. My only option was to call for an ambulance. As her roommate, I rode with her to the hospital. In the ambulance, I overheard one of the paramedics mutter, “Not this university again.” Just as I was about to ask what she meant, the other paramedic shot her a sharp look, silencing her. 15 The hospital was in chaos. Apparently, a large number of students from our university had been admitted with the exact same symptoms. The situation was so severe it had even drawn the attention of the police. An officer glanced at Lucy, who was now lying in a hospital bed, and gestured for me to follow him into the hallway. The corridor was a whirlwind of activity, doctors and nurses rushing back and forth. “Has your roommate been acting strangely lately?” the officer asked. I shook my head. “Nothing out of the ordinary.” “Think carefully. Has she eaten anything unusual? Injected anything?” I froze, looking at him in disbelief. They suspected Lucy was… a drug user? 16 “Impossible,” I said, my tone firm. “But she might have eaten something bad.” The officer, who had looked bored and tired, suddenly straightened up. “Oh? Eaten something bad?” “Yes.” I told him everything I knew about the fries truck and its secret sauce. The officer’s hand, holding the pen, paused. “Do you have any proof?” I fell silent. I didn’t. A smell, a subjective experience, wasn’t evidence. “No.” “Without proof, it’s just speculation. We can’t get a warrant based on that.” Seeing that he wasn’t going to get any more useful information from me, the officer looked disappointed. “Alright, you can go for now. We’ll be in touch if we have any more questions.” 17 I glanced back at Lucy, an IV drip attached to her arm. I had no choice but to nod and leave. Back at the dorm, I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned, a sense of unease gnawing at me. So many students from our school were in the hospital, yet it hadn’t affected the fries truck’s business one bit. Over the next few days, I spent all my free time at the coffee shop across the street from the food truck, watching. I started to learn the owner’s routine. Every morning at 7 AM, he would arrive in a silver cargo van and park in the small alley behind the truck. He’d unload several large, heavy sacks of ingredients and carry them inside. For the next two hours, he’d prep in the back. At 10 AM sharp, he’d open for business. He wouldn’t close up until around 11 PM, when he would start cleaning. 18 I watched for days but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Then, on the fifth night, I finally saw something. The coffee shop was about to close, and I was leaving, feeling dejected, when I saw the owner acting strangely. He peeked his head out from the back of the truck, scanning the alley nervously. When he was sure no one was around, he carried two large, dark bags to his van. The bags looked wet, glistening slickly in the moonlight. A cold dread washed over me. The image was sickeningly familiar, reminding me of the body fluid that sometimes seeped from the bags at the funeral home. He loaded the bags into his van and drove off. This was my chance. I couldn’t let it slip away. I waited until the coast was clear and slipped into the unlocked food truck. 19 I cautiously pushed aside the curtain to the back kitchen area, and after confirming it was empty, I stepped inside. Compared to the front counter, the kitchen was a sanitary nightmare. The floor was wet and sticky, and the damp walls were breeding grounds for black mold. A faucet dripped incessantly into a sink stained with the dark sauce. I wrinkled my nose in disgust. I looked around the small kitchen. Besides the filth, there was nothing obviously amiss. But wait. I tilted my head back and took a deep breath. There it was again—a faint but definite smell of rot. I followed the scent, moving slowly through the cramped space. My eyes landed on the side of a large metal cabinet. There, almost perfectly flush with the wall, was a hidden door. I gave it a gentle push, and it swung inward on a silent hinge. A thick, suffocating stench rolled out. I froze, gagging. 20 The room had an old-fashioned pull-string light. I tugged the cord, and a dim, yellow bulb flickered to life. The small chamber was filled with twelve large industrial-grade plastic drums, each sealed with a sheet of oiled canvas. I lifted the cover off the nearest vat. The smell of decay exploded outwards. A murky, foul-smelling liquid filled the vat. Floating within were chunks of what looked like marinating meat and vegetables—the base for the sauce, I guessed. But the stench… it was unbearable. My eyes stung, and I had to stand up and gasp for fresh air. Thankfully, my years of exposure to death had given me a high tolerance for such smells. Once I had calmed myself, I took out my phone and turned on the camera. This was why I had risked coming in here—to get evidence. 21 I took a deep breath, steeling myself, and plunged my hand into the murky liquid. Beneath the floating chunks of meat, my fingertips brushed against something else. Something soft. I froze. The texture was disturbingly similar to human skin. Just as I was about to pull the object out, I heard the sound of hurried footsteps from outside. Panicked, I slammed the cover back on the vat and dove behind a stack of them in the far corner. The light was dim; if I stayed still, he might not see me. The footsteps grew closer. My palms slicked with nervous sweat. A man’s heavy, ragged breathing filled the small room. He walked around the vats, seemingly checking that everything was in order, before stepping back out. He seemed to be looking for something. 22 Time crawled by. My legs started to go numb. The man still hadn’t left. Just as I was about to cramp up, a shrill ringtone cut through the silence. I couldn’t hear what was being said, but after a short, sharp conversation, the man left in a hurry. I let out a silent breath of relief. I fumbled in the darkness, searching for the pull-string for the light. Suddenly, a puff of warm breath hit my arm. My body went rigid. For a split second, my brain refused to process it. It had to be my imagination. I yanked the cord. The room was flooded with light. “What are you looking for?” a hoarse voice rasped from right behind me. 23 The owner stood in the doorway, a heavy iron ladle in his hand, his face a grim mask. My eyes widened, and my scalp prickled as if struck by lightning. “I… I was…” The words died in my throat. I couldn’t exactly say I was looking for a dead body, could I? He started walking towards me. I threw caution to the wind and charged, trying to shove past him. It was a foolish miscalculation. Years of manual labor had made him strong. He tackled me with surprising speed, sending me crashing to the floor. I was no match for him. After a brief, desperate struggle, my energy was gone. I lay pinned beneath him, his weight crushing the air from my lungs. He clamped my hands above my head, his voice a low growl. “What were you looking for?” 24 His grip was like iron; I couldn’t move an inch. Then, the piercing wail of sirens cut through the night. The police burst through the door, and his grip on me finally loosened. Several officers swarmed into the small space. The first one helped me to my feet. Before I could even explain, the owner’s demeanor flipped. He became the victim. “Officer, thank god you’re here! This girl, she broke in and was tampering with my marinade!” He pointed at my phone. “She was filming it, too! These kids today… they’ll do anything for clicks…” The sudden switch was so jarring it left me speechless. “I didn’t,” I managed, my voice weak. “Then what were you doing here?” the lead officer asked, his question hitting the nail on the head. I stammered, unable to come up with a coherent answer. 25 Just as they were about to lead me away, I took a desperate gamble. I grabbed the officer’s sleeve and pointed at the vats. “There’s a body in there.” The officer’s eyes widened. He waved a hand at his team. “Search them!” The team moved quickly, ripping the covers off the vats. The stench that filled the room became so thick it was hard to breathe. After a few minutes, one of them reported, “Sir, besides the marinade base, we’ve found some chunks of meat.” My heart hammered in my chest. I looked at the owner, who stood with his head bowed, silent. “It has to be human remains!” I cried. 26 The meat was laid out on a plastic sheet. Twelve pieces in total, one from each vat. The lead officer, a detective, crouched down to examine them. After a moment, he shook his head in disappointment. “These aren’t human.” He was right. I could see it now, too. The texture and fiber were wrong. The owner feigned outrage. “Officers, if I were really hiding a body, would I have called the police myself?” he whined, conveniently forgetting that I had been the one to trigger his security alarm. “That’s just pork! It’s part of my family’s secret recipe! How am I supposed to do business after this?” “And you,” he snarled, pointing at me, “why do you keep saying there’s a body? You’ve ruined this entire batch of marinade! You’re going to pay for this!” The detective sighed, clearly overwhelmed by the situation. He pointed at me. “Cuff her. Take her in.” All the fight went out of me. I let them lead me away without another word. 27 Once we were in the patrol car, the detective slowly pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He took a long drag, his eyes fixed on the glowing sign of the food truck. “How did you know there was a body in there?” I told him the truth. “I smelled it. My family is in the death care business. I’ve been around that smell my whole life.” The detective glanced at me, a flicker of surprise and then approval in his eyes. “You’ve got a good nose, kid.” I looked at him, confused. “You… you’re not mad at me?” He shook his head. “There was definitely the stench of a corpse in there.” “You smelled it too?” I gasped. He looked at the cigarette between his fingers, now burned down to a short stub. He took one last drag and flicked it onto the asphalt. “I’ve worked enough cases and seen enough bodies to know the smell of death. It was thick in there.” “Then why didn’t you keep searching?” I asked. “No probable cause. We can’t just tear a place apart unless we know where the body is hidden.” His words sent my mind racing. The vats reeked of decay, but there was no body. And that pork… was it really a secret ingredient, or was it meant to hide something else? 28 At the station, the detective handed me over to a young officer for processing. The young officer, looking tired and overworked, slid a form across the desk. “Fill this out. Personal information.” Then he went back to his own chaotic paperwork. The station was buzzing with activity, even in the middle of the night. Drunks, domestic disputes, fights—it was a cross-section of the city’s misery. About fifteen minutes later, the young officer slammed a missing person flyer down on his desk in frustration. “God, I’m so sick of this,” he muttered to a colleague. “It never ends.” The sudden noise made me look up. The photo on the flyer was blurry, showing a thin woman in a bright magenta sweater, a little girl of about seven or eight standing beside her. 29 The officer tapped the desk. “What are you looking at? You done?” I averted my gaze and handed him the completed form. He glanced at it, confirmed the details, and began the official questioning. “You’re a college student. So tell me again why you believe a food truck’s secret sauce is being made with… fluid from a corpse?” I stared at the cold steel of the handcuffs, catching the lingering scent of decay trapped under my fingernails. It was, without a doubt, the smell of death. The smell a human body weeps after it’s gone. The officer saw my silence and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He stood up and dialed the number I had written down for my emergency contact. After a brief, clipped explanation of the situation, he hung up. “Your family is on their way to pick you up.” 30 Seeing my dazed expression, he sat down across from me, his tone softening into a lecture. “Look, you’re a student, so we’re not going to press charges this time. But you will have to compensate the business owner for the damages.” A jolt went through me. I came back to myself. “I understand,” I whispered. My parents lived in a distant suburb, about an hour and a half away. But with no traffic at this hour, they made it to the station in just under sixty minutes. They burst in, not even bothering to close the car door behind them. They fussed over me, checking me from head to toe, and only relaxed when they were sure I was unharmed. My mother pulled me over to the officer. “Officer, what on earth has my daughter done?” The young officer, seeing I was just a kid, tried to downplay the severity of it. “Your daughter was found trespassing in a private business… luckily, no serious harm was done, but you’ll need to cover the owner’s losses.” “Here,” he said, handing my dad a slip of paper with a phone number on it. “This is the owner’s contact information. You can arrange the compensation with him directly.” My parents shot me a look of disbelief before turning back to the officer with apologetic smiles. “We’re so sorry, officer. We’ll be sure to have a serious talk with her when we get home.” 31 The moment we were back in the car, my mother’s face hardened. “What really happened?” she demanded. From her tone, I knew I had to tell them everything, or she’d never let it go. I sighed and recounted the whole story, from the first smell to being caught in the back room. “Mom, you know my nose,” I finished lamely. “How could I be wrong about something like that?” My father, who had been listening intently, finally understood the gravity of the situation. “But to go in there alone? Mia, that was incredibly dangerous!” My mother’s expression was grim. “Your father’s right. You need to stay out of this. This is not something a young girl should be involved in.” I knew they were right. I had been reckless. I hung my head in shame. “I’m sorry. I was impulsive.” The tension in the car was thick. My father tried to smooth things over. “Well, as long as you’ve learned your lesson. Listen to your mother, honey. From now on, you stay away from that place.” Seeing me nod obediently, my mother’s expression finally softened a little. 32 By now, it was long past the dorm’s curfew. There was no way I could get back in. Fortunately, before the semester started, my parents had rented a small two-bedroom apartment for me near the campus. I used it occasionally when my work at the funeral home ran late and it was inconvenient to go back to the dorm. After my mom made me promise I’d be okay on my own, she and my dad finally left. I took a hot shower and collapsed into bed. I must have been more exhausted than I realized, because I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. I didn’t wake up until noon the next day. Luckily, I had no morning classes. After getting ready, I headed out to go back to campus. As I was walking down the stairs of my apartment building, I nearly collided with a familiar figure. The fries truck owner. He was just as surprised to see me as I was to see him. We both froze. For a moment, we just stared at each other, the air thick with awkward silence. What a small world. Who would have thought that the man I suspected of murder lived in the same building as me? 33 I lowered my head and tried to walk past him without a word. After the lecture from my parents, I had decided to drop the whole thing. “Thump!” A loud crash and a cry of pain came from behind me. I spun around. The owner was sprawled on the landing of the stairs, clutching his ankle and groaning in pain. Did he fall? I looked around. The stairwell was empty. With a sigh, I went back and helped him up. “Thanks,” he muttered, leaning his full weight on me. I had to brace myself to keep from toppling over. 34 The moment his left foot touched the ground, his face contorted in pain. Looks like a sprained ankle. “Do you need me to help you get back to your apartment?” I couldn’t just leave him here. It felt wrong. He gritted his teeth and nodded. “If you don’t mind.” I helped him hobble up one flight of stairs to the fourth floor. He stopped in front of his door. I glanced at the apartment number: 402. Huh? 402? My apartment was 302. The owner lived directly above me? What a strange coincidence. I didn’t mention it, though. The less he knew, the better. And really, there was no reason to.

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